Il Suono D'Oro
by LilySpirit
Summary: Fan-Epic01: Crescendo Falls In Love! The music continues for the guys after the Encore game. Can they survive their first year at Seisou University? C20: Together alone in the classroom, Ryo's violin song was for Kumiko's ballet. But does Kahoko know? R
1. Chapter 1

_Hiya! This is a La Corda D'oro fanfiction of mine for Len Tsukimori, the incredibly cool violinist. Originally, I had wanted to start with a RyoxKaho fanfic story that happens in their third year of Seisou Academy (now you know who I support, hehehe!) but I was scared of being killed by the LenxKaho mob (waaah, all of you are so many?!). _

_So instead, its for Seisou University, first-years and a whole new year of musical challenges! What happens to the rest of the guys after Kahoko had chosen her right man? What have the Crescendo guys learned about finding their true love? Can Kahoko help them win these five young girls over?_ _And without screwing_ _up?_

_Starting with Len Tsukimori..._

Timeline: April-June  
Summary: Len Tsukimori knows where the winds of his music lies, yet something was missing somewhere that stopped him from pursuing his immortal dream. What was it and why? Kumiko Yukigawa lived everyday as if it was her last because she knows that she only has one day that's her last...  
The virtuoso and the ballerina each have their own mission to fulfill; Len to play his violin and Kumiko to dance her ballet. When these two collide in a web of secrets, would Len's new gentle heart be enough to heal Kumiko's long-hardened soul?

Il Suono D'Oro: Some Fan-story Details

Len Tsukimori _(first-year Seisou University student; violin major. Also concertmaster in the violin concerto)_  
Lamenting on lost opportunities, Len took part in the Kamiya Project and became the concertmaster for its violin concerto. It will be his entry, his debut into international circles he craved.

Kumiko Yukigawa _(third-year Seisou Academy high school; GE student. Also ballerina of the Jones's School of Ballet)_  
Emerging from a tragic past, Kumiko is determined to win the lead female role in the Tchaikovesky ballet, Swan Lake. It all goes successfully, it would be her last performance.

Kahoko Hino _(first-year Seisou University student; violin major)_  
Matured from the incidents from the previous year, Len sensed that Kahoko has an agenda of her own in taking part of the Kamiya Project of which she had discolsed to no-one for some reason.

Ryotaro Tsuchiura _(first-year Seisou University student; piano major. Also guest musician in the Kamiya Team)  
_With a new focus in life, Ryotaro is now more serious than ever before in his music studies. Len noticed that this disheartens his relationship with Kahoko.

Arnie Alby _(Conductor in the Kamiya Team. Also concertmaster in the Swan Lake ballet orchestra)_  
Old friend of Kumiko. Slightly strict, he trains Len on finding the spirit of the Kamiya's violin composition.

Miss Miya Jones _(ballet instructor in the Jones's School of Ballet)_  
Old friend and confidant of Kumiko's. She is willing to do anything to make sure Kumiko wins the ballet.

Kojima _(mysterious stranger; drug lord)_  
His identity is uncertain but Kumiko knows him well. A secret drug lord battling new competiton with the emergences of new drug cartel in his area.

Kamiya Project  
Lead by conductor Alby, it is an orchestra team comprises entirely of both university and high school students for six concertoes composed by renowned violinist Kamiya for one recording album on behalf of Seisou Academy. The lead soloists for the compositions are a violin, a cello, a trumpet, a flute, a viola and a piano respectively. Currently, Len Tsukimori is the concertmaster.

Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake  
Organized by Tokyo's Association of Culture and Dance, it is the first in a trio of ballets that year. The Association comprises of several dance schools of which the Jones's School of Ballet is a member. Students were sent to audition and perform for a professional-level status as ballerinas. Currently, Kumiko is trying to audition for the role of Odette, the Swan Queen.

* * *

**Il Suono D'oro**

**Chapter 01: A Tchaikovsky Morning**

Len Tsukimori was practicing a Tchaikovsky's solo piece when he finally noted the morning sunlight sweeping through the windows of his private practice room, tinged white gold by the colour of the draped curtains. He did not realize that he had practiced all night. If Kahoko knew, she would have been furious. As he thought of her, his eyes turned to the gold-framed photograph on the mantelpiece, the only ornament in the sparely fitted room.

The picture it held had been taken on his high school graduation from Seisou Academy. It was the group photo of him and his friends, wearing their graduation best and smiling faces. Kazuki, Azuma and Ousaki were in it as well. They all had attended the ceremony, not to miss what the school headmaster had declared as one of their best year yet.

Shimizu and Shouko were wearing school uniforms, cheering for their seniors; himself, Kahoko, Tsuchiura, Kaji and Nami were wearing their robes while their old seniors had worn semi-formal clothes. Kanazawa was in the photo too. He even looked presentable.

The photo was taken just after they had taken their certificates, prior to the final concerto of their year. His eyes strayed at Kahoko and Tsuhiura and the place where their hands were held tightly together. Her face showed nothing but pure joy of the occasion. Tsuchiura's expression, though subtle as it was, betrayed something even more.

A pang of jealousy, now that he no longer denied what it was, made a heavy lump in his heart. But the passing of time, six weeks since that graduation, have coloured the emotion more with melancholy than with envy. It was not from the time he had once coveted Kahoko himself. That had been resolved ages ago; deep friendship had taken place where fragile love would have been formed. Intimate trust and intimate fellow feeling between themselves as violinists.

He never thought he would have had anything like that kind of trust with anyone, until Kahoko entered his life. Her kindness, her heart, _her magic_, so to speak, finally made him realize what was it that made the united melody between his parents so beautifully expressed.

The music of passionate love.

Aye and there it was, the risk he could not take. The risk that Ryoutarou Tsuchiura had taken, albeit not without consequences, on certain chains of events since the beginning of their final year in Seisou. Only time will reveal the true fruits of his old rival's proverbial leap of faith. Still, if he so much so hurt Kahoko in anyway, Len would be the first in line to beat the hell out of Tsuchiura and when he was done, the rest of the guys would have little left to scrape over between them.

It was not that Len could not give the same kind of love; his sincerity for empathy toward Romantic classical music proves that. He had seen love, the beauty it can bring; witness his mother's and father's music. It was that thing, being what it was; the thing his father had tried to tell him for years of which beyond good skills can give. A heart opened to the greatest music in creation.

He couldn't do it.

What was the wellspring of passion for music? Specifically to say, what drives his music? Was it separate from the same source as the passion that fuels love? Or were they linked? And if they were linked, would it kill his musical passion if he strived for passionate love? How could he tell? How high were the risks?

All these things, he does not know. Music had always been the ideal to him. His violin was his life; he lived in the world of composition and orchestral performance. He strove for masterpieces, new standards and the precarious balance between modern and classical music. He aims for the future beyond his lifespan, into the records that had immortalized Bach, Mozart, Paganini and yes, Tchaikovsky.

To achieve that, his concentration should never be focused half-heartedly. Distractedly.

_Yet, why was he stuck here instead of playing in Vienna?_

Len placed the bow of his faithful violin into its case. He checked the surface of his instrument, looking for any signs of wear or deformities. Maintenance was crucial; he treated his violin with more zeal than soldiers in the battlefield treat their guns. His fingers ached, his neck and shoulder even more, but he cherished the minor discomforts.

In the past, he would have ignored them, or taken a more serious precaution. But the effects of his long practice felt more like life to him. Cramps and stiffness, they tell him to stop before he overdoes it and after they face, it was time for him to be ready to play again. Though not for that moment, not for now. There will more time, today, tomorrow, and the open future, to create his golden sound.

The sound Kahoko Hino had helped him create.

Shaking his head to rid the miasma of his fanciful thoughts, Len placed his violin into the case and closed the lid with a definite click. But the one thing he could not get rid of was the image of a dream, of a blessed angel casting a magical spell. A spell that had softened his hardened heart and evoked a new world of music.

And the monkeys that _just had_ to live in it.

"LEEEEEENN TSUUKIIMOOOOOUURIIIIE!!"

That cry, a nightmare since his second year in high school, rang as loud as a church bell from outside his room's window, from the front gates of his house. The voice that contained such exuberance could only belong to one trumpet master whose lung capacity was exceeded only by the size of his stomach.

"Hey Tsukimori!! Are you home? Come out, come out if you're in!!"

The guy was going to piss every sleeper in the high-class neighbourhood. Doesn't he know that it was half-past six in the morning?

Reluctant as he was to acknowledge the caller's presence, Len had had plans to meet up with Kazuki Hihara and the others early that day for a certain discussion of great interest to him. But he did not think Hihara would be in the neighbourhood, much less in front of his house. He turned to the window and pushed aside the curtains.

"Hey, there you are!" cried Hihara with undiminished energy, upon sighting Len's outline from one of the windows. As always, he waved his arm enthusiastically from outside the iron gates. Len was thankful enough that he was not climbing the gates. He noticed that Hihara was not alone and upon identifying the extra company, he could not tell either to inwardly groan or outwardly wince.

There were three of them, to count the lot. Next to Hihara was the tallest one of the group, an athletic build topped with short, dark green hair. Even with his face turned away from the house, Len had long been familiar with Tsuchiura's gruff demeanor and could tell that the man was probably clenching his teeth. He seemed to be doing his best to ignore Hihara's cheerful liveliness and at the same time, holding on to Hihara's back collar, to stop him from possibly, say, climb up the iron gates.

The third man was a blond fellow with a usually cherry, merry expression on his face. He was neither one of those at the moment.

"Dammit, Hihara!" he cried in a half-shouted whisper.

Like Tsuchiura, Kaji did not seem overly encouraging toward Hihara's enthusiasm at greeting the son of the house's master. He seems sweated with a look that said half-amused and half-exasperated, his face nervously scanning for any pass-by who might be staring at them.

Hihara laughed at his own bad mannerism.

"Haha, sorry. But I really want to show Tsukimori my new car," said Hihara.

Kaji sighed, "Yeah, well, I'm sure he's definitely seen it so keep it down will, ya?"

But apparently, Hihara was not to be denied.

"Hey, Tsukimori! Check out my new ride! Cool huh? We're all going to carpool to Seisou University!"

New car? That old thing? Len studied the brown metallic, God forbid, Toyota minivan parked next to them. It seemed to have had its fair share of road wear, even with his eye from the second-floor window. But at least it looked clean. On the outside.

"Hey Tsukimori!! Have you had breakfast yet?!"

Len decided that the sooner he greets them and get ready for the excursion, the sooner he can shoo them out of the area. He just hoped that he has enough food stockpiled in the kitchen. As he walked towards the door, his hand automatically reached out to grab his violin case and he took it with him without a second thought.

* * *

On the other side of town was a playground full of half-rusted metal. A young girl in mini shorts and a thick black jacket sat very still on the monkey bars in morning sunlight. Sand, bags of cement powder and other miscellaneous construction material littered the area around her.

So silent and motionless was she that in silhouette, she appeared to be no more than a statue, except for the strands of dark brown hair wistfully quivering at every slight breeze.

With her eyes tightly closed, Kumiko Yukigawa drank in the sounds of the area. A dog in the far distance barked repeatedly. In the further distance were the drones of morning traffic. Closer at hand was the splashing sound of that old crooked fire hydrant, a small fountain pattering over the dirty road. A basketball bounced lazily along on the sidewalk. The sound felt like a heartbeat that came slowly and then faded away as the owner was passing by.

All this she could identify easily. She grew up there and she cherished every sound that came to her ears. Feeding her memories.

Just as like the recognized coughing noise of an old Mazda car engine, growing larger and louder as the driver approached the playground cum construction site. Kumiko smiled slowly to herself, for the driver's coming was a pleasant surprise.

"Kumiko! Hey Kumiko!" cried a light, feminine voice.

She opened her eyes and bended her body backwards so low until she could see, albeit upside-down, to the person in the old Mazda. Without a doubt, it was her best friend in the world, Miss Miya Jones. The woman in the car drove up to park next to the No Parking sign and turned off the engine.

Kumiko positioned her knees and feet against the bars beneath her and pushed her body. He legs swung out and upward, turning momentum into a gymnastic arch from her seating 6 feet or more off the ground. She landed on the stone paved ground half-jerkily, low on her right knee, for she was wearing her inline skates as she landed.

"Oh God, be careful!" the woman sounded half-frightened and half-annoyed. Miss Miya had been almost getting out of her car in anticipation of an awkward fall. But Kumiko had choreographed the move hundreds of times before in the past. Thus, it was no sweat for her in repeating it.

And it would be the last time she would ever sat on those monkey bars again.

Pushing her feet and propelling forward, Kumiko turned and grabbed her large backpack she had left from under the monkey bars. She skated toward her friend, who still stared at her anxiously. Her own face had a soft smile; one gloved hand outstretched for balance and the other was tucking the escaped strands of her hair back into her tightly braided bun at the back of her head.

"Kumi-," Miss Miya began but Kumiko cut her off.

"I know, I'm sorry. Please don't worry, I promise it won't happen again," said Kumiko.

But Miss Miya was not deterred the least. She arched up an eyebrow in the same look she gave her students when they made a misstep or jumped too far and accidentally got out of line. Kumiko suppressed her grin.

"No, really. They're tearing down the old playground. See? No need for me to come here again."

She pointed to the large wooden sign erected next to the derelict lamppost. The noticed indicated that the playground would be demolished, as the area was part of a high-rise office building that was to be constructed.

"Yes, I can see that my dear. At least it's obvious you have been working on your _pas de poisson_," said Miss Miya, referring to the technical term to describe a sort-of backward leap.

"But really, you nearly gave me such a fright," she exclaimed. "Especially landing on those!" she shook an angry finger to Kumiko's skates.

Kumiko smiled brightly and opted for a more formal apology, yet still teasing. It was still too early in the morning to feel too disciplined towards Miss Miya, who was also her ballet teacher. She was a charming faced lady who always pulled her already short hair back to a ponytail. The two of them had gone way back to more than 10 years ago, to when she was six and Miss Miya was a first year university dance student herself.

After exchanging well-meaning good mornings, Miss Miya offered Kumiko a ride to her high school, which was along the way to her day job as a clerk. But Kumiko shook her head.

"Thank you, ah..." she began, but her mind turned blank. She knew she would soon have to tell Miss Miya the recent news but for some reason, her words could not seem to come out. In her head, a male voice, her older brother's voice, rang the warnings they had discussed the night before.

The night she slept for the last time in her childhood home.

"Well, Kumiko? Aren't you going to get in?"

She blinked and quickly pulled herself out from being spaced out. It was becoming a habit for her, letting her mind wander outside the point in time. Then again, she had a lot of things on her mind and far much more to come, if the year held any luck.

She shook her head.

"Ah, I mean. I don't go to Soruku High anymore."

"You don't?" Miss Miya's eyes were wide with surprise.

Taking in a breath, Kumiko continued, "Yeah, I'm at a different school this year. Seisou Academy. It's on the opposite side of town and not at all near the same route as my old school."

She pointed towards the road that leads to the larger residential areas. Miss Miya made a pout look on her face.

"Awww, so this means you're going to have to take the bus?"

"Yeah, but on rainy days. I'm just going to skate to school today," Kumiko bounced one wheeled foot on the ground to emphasize her wearing them.

"Also..." said Kumiko, in a near whisper, "I've just moved house as well. To be closer to my new school."

"Oh? You and your brother finally got out of... that place?"

"Huh? Oh no, just me. Big bro still lives in the old house. He needs to stay close to the station, in case he gets a call or something."

Kumiko faced to the road across the playground on the other side. It looked innocuous enough, just like every other roads around the concrete plated low-income neighbourhood around them. But where that road leads, the streets and its inhabitants, to politely state, they were much less friendly.

"So," said Miss Miya, "You moved out? Staying all alone?"

"Naah, I'm staying with a family friend. Her family's great and they own a motorcycle repair shop just next door to their house."

"Urg. Sounds noisy."

"Yeah, I'm still adjusting to all the new sounds," laughed Kumiko, patting her ear.

But she saw Miss Miya's face suddenly turned forlorn, her ballet teacher's eye watching her animated hand; she dropped her hand down quickly. She knew what her old friend was thinking and quickly strived to change the subject.

"Well, uh," she coughed and then tried for poise, "Seisou Academy is a bit more expensive but I think Big bro and I can manage."

"Oh, are you sure? I heard that they even have very extensive co-curriculum and that's just for the half of the school wearing dark-coloured uniforms."

They exchanged a light banter as between two good friends about the merits of such a prestigious place compared to her old school.

"Ah, speaking of music," said Miss Miya, "I've already announced it to most of the others but almost forgot to tell you. Kumiko dear, the company is having a conference today and tomorrow. I'm afraid that ballet class for tonight and tomorrow night is cancelled."

Kumiko blinked in wonder. "Is the conference far?"

When Miss Miya nodded shyly, Kumiko felt... relieved. Which was strange because she loved ballet.

_She lived for ballet. _

Maybe that relieved feeling was evoked because under all the recent uncertainties plaguing her. Some good rest coming for her that night after a day at the new school might be a good thing.

"Ah, that's okay, I think..." she scrambled her brain for thoughts, "I can double check on that school's extensive co-curriculum you so worried about."

Miss Miya smiled and teased, "Alright. But don't you slack on your _adagios_. You better get those rights when I come back."

She took her leave to part at that comment. As she started her car, the old engine coughed to life, she gave Kumiko a passive look that conveyed meanings more than her words.

"Be careful, Kumiko."

But the younger girl just smiled. They both exchanged goodbye waves and Kumiko stood alone on the sidewalk for as long as she watched her teacher's car disappear around the corner.

'_Adagios_' and '_get those right_' were two words almost impossible to put to Kumiko. _Adagios_ require slow, controlled movements and Kumiko reveled more in jumps, leaps and spins; _allegro_, _grand jeté_ and _pirouette_. Still, it was also one of the most graceful motions ever designed to dance. It was not as if she could not execute them. Controlled and composure were almost infinite in Kumiko.

Control and composure ruled all her life.

That was why she hated to have to use them in her dancing. Kumiko did not realize that her face had turned poker grim until she caught her reflection on the surface of a large rectangular flat glass window, cracked and chipped, leaning against the derelict lamppost along with other rubbish tossed by who know which of the irresponsible neighbours.

She literally wiped her mouth, brushing her fingers over stiff cheeks. Turning towards the playground, she crossed it, expertly maneuvering her skates between piles of sand and nail-embedded wood. She stepped on to the street, the one that led to the darker denizens of the area.

It had taken three weeks-, no, almost a month to have to get transferred to a different school and change her living quarters. And the changes were still kept coming. Kumiko Yukigawa was 17 years old and she would be taking her entrance exams in a brand new school. She loves to dance ballet, do freestyle urban skating and enjoys listening classical music. She has an older brother who was working and supporting her financially.

Though she has a slender body with good bones, fair skin and fine green eyes, the biggest flaw she considers in her appearance was her long messy-wavy hair which she always try to keep securely tied in a hair-clipped bun. On occasion, a strand or three escaped, betraying its true long length.

Her bangs parted in the middle, which she often tucked behind her ears, as she had not cut to a neat length yet. It held many visible strands of blond-white hair that glinted as they frame down to her neck. The contrast of dark brown hair peppered with a blond-white fringe made her look much older than her teen years.

In a nutshell, those were the only things other people would need to know about her, her superficial appearance and background. Everything else, everything that might turn out in the future, would be either immaterial... or just none of their damn business.

It was the future that worried Kumiko the most. She checked her inline skates, making sure that the wheels were good and the laces were tight. They were quite old and needs to be regularly oiled to keep going smoothly.

Finding no fault, she turned to the contents of her bag. The items she needed were all inside, including her dark uniform, its white skirt and its dark-coloured scarf; she would change her clothes at school. She securely strapped her bag-pack on her back and shoulders, closing the clip at her small waist.

There. That was all she needed to worry about for now. Checking left and right for traffic and pedestrians and finding none on the empty road, she quickly pushed her foot and took off into the oily, pothole-ridden streets, neatly avoiding trailing rivulets from the crooked fire hydrant.

These were the streets she grew up in. She had to move quickly, before the wild dogs start to roam about, scavenging and fighting for scraps and rubbish heaps.

A few good blocks away, then to the overhead pedestrian bridge over a fast-running freeway and into the small-business shop lots. Another shortcut bordering the green parks next to Seisou University and then onwards to the high school itself. If her brother knew that she was taking the ghetto short cut to the new school, on the first day of her new school what's more, he would be furious. He would rant and rave and then tell her to go to the devil her own way.

But Kumiko vowed that the devil would not have her yet. Not yet. She would face all the future's challenges, one day at a time. Only for as much time she could have between the hour she had at that moment to the day that follows after tomorrow. Because being who she was, what she was, and she herself doesn't know how much of her future she has left.

But one certainty she promised herself; she would keep going until Tchaikovsky's last swan drowns.

**End of Chapter 01**

* * *

_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	2. Chapter 2

**Il Suono D'oro**

**Chapter 02: Accidental Encounter**

Hihara was taking the freeway route toward the university, as it was still so early in the morning to have much traffic. Contrary to Len's expectations, Hihara was actually meticulous about the interior health of his car. He was expecting empty paper packages with fast food logos on them littering the floor but none was to be found. Still, it had a slight funny smell of stale tempura and that gave everybody subtle excuses to screen down their door windows.

"It used to be my brother's car, see? It feels really weird to be driving it when he always told me to keep my hands off it but now that he's got a new sport car, I thought maybe I should get a new paintjob," cheered Hihara, his finger tapping on to the steering wheel in rhythm to the music on the radio.

"Paintjob's nothing. You could use a car freshener too," said Kaji from behind Len.

The blond guy reached out from between the front seats and meddled with the radio, checking its controls.

"Hey, your radio's got only one CD capacity? Darn."

"Well, that's on my next to upgrade list!"

Between this and other happy descriptions of the driver's newfound luck in having his own set of wheels, Len noticed that Tsuchiura was unusually pensive. Quiet. A sideways glance to the backseat, behind the driver, he noted that Tsuchiura was staring spaced-out to the passing scenery but seeing nothing was Len's guess. His elbow was against on top of the open window, his knuckles half-curled under his chin.

His clear-plastic bangle, the only ornament he possessed that he never took off, hung lazily on his upturned wrist.

"Nervous, Tsuchiura?" smirked Kaji, who had also noticed his friend's silent mood. Tsuchiura blinked and turned to Kaji, his expression held a restrained temper but it was gone in seconds.

He simply grunted, "Yeah," and returned his face to the window.

Undeterred, Kaji teased, "Dare I guess who's you're thinking of?"

"Dare as much as you guys like but it might be way off the mark."

"Hmm-mm. Is it red hair and short-stuff close to the warm spot?"

Tsuchiura frowned, "If it's that obvious, why did you ask?"

"There's just some things even a big man like you can't hide, Ryo," said Hihara, who could not help but quipped in. From the rearview mirror, he winked at Tsuchiura.

"It's not her fault that we were all so nuts about her once," smiled Kaji.

"Leave me alone, guys," said Tsuchiura with a growl.

Of course, as usual, Hihara and Kaji did not leave it there. Since certain events of last year, since Kahoko had made it clear to where her heart lies, Hihara and Kaji had taken from pursuing Kahoko to teasing Tsuchiura at opportune moments on his newfound steady relationship. Sometimes there were playful bantering and sometimes they were thinly veiled threats. Kahoko, afterall, was their treasured lady.

That thought brought another into Len's mind. He spoke it at the first pause of the guys' juvenile repartee.

"Tsuchiura," he began, speaking for the first time since he entered the car, "did you remember to bring the audition forms?"

"Hmm? Yeah, but..." Tsuchiura checked the thick yellow file he had placed on the seat. "I only have the original copies. Kaho says that she's going to bring the internet prints and we'll exchange from there."

He took out some important looking crisp-clean papers from the file and passed them to Kaji, who had been looking on expectantly.

"Here's yours. Just fill them out."

"Thanks. I was so worried that I missed out on them yesterday."

As Kaji checked the official looking logo and the input boxes, Len noticed a black object had suddenly been tossed in the middle of the road. It looked to be a sack or a bag. It could have fallen from the stairways of the pedestrian bridge above the sidewalk. Len looked up to place where the thrower might be but his eyes gone wide when he did. He noted a figure sliding impossibly fast down the handrail of the bridge and jumped onto the road.

Curiosity about the audition forms made Hihara asked, "Hey, I didn't know about any forms. What ar-"

"Hihara, look out!!"

Len cried out the warning and jerked Hihara's arm on the steering wheel. Surprised, Hihara turned and saw the blurred figure of a young girl, moving so fast that she looked as if she had the wind carrying her feet. What was even more startling was that she was coming towards them on to the road, towards the car and does not seem to be slowing down to avoid them. To avoid a fatal collision.

Hihara slammed on the brakes, his tires protested with a high-pitched screech. But he was still coming in too fast. The mad girl was still coming head on towards them. Len grabbed on the steering wheel and turned it hard, sharply to the right as the girl bend her body low to the ground and scooped up the black bag into her arms. Both minivan and the girl barely passed each other within inches.

The minivan swirled and skidded, bounced once on the thick concrete wall that supported the overhead bridge before it came to a complete, violently jerked, stop near the sidewalk. His heart still racing, Len looked up from the dashboard where he had braced his arms upon and looked at Hihara.

The driver was panting, his own face turned to Len's and then towards the other passengers. His expression changed like quicksilver, from concern to shock to fear and back to concern.

"Hey..." he coughed and panted, but could not get the rest of his words out.

At the back seat, Tsuchiura had braced well with his arms firmly to the driver's chair. He just gave Hihara a vague wave as an answering call. Kaji, on the other hand, had been holding on to the audition forms. The side of his head had impacted on the shoulder of Len's seat and his arms had crushed the formerly flat-pressed papers.

Hihara tried again to speak, "Everybody okay?"

A muffled groan, "I think I died," said Kaji.

"Wh-what the hell happened?" asked Tsuchiura.

Len felt like his arms had been half-crushed. New aches were building on the old ones that were formed during his night practice. He checked his surroundings. Except for the shaken occupants and some crumpled important documents- "Oh crap!" cried Kaji-, Len could see no real damages that were evident inside the minivan.

His eyes strayed to the side-mirror on the outside and noted a collapsed body behind the car, some 20 feet away. The person, the daredevil who ran towards them without regard for safety, had fallen to her side right on the road. Her front was facing at them and her arms still hugged protectively on her bag.

She doesn't appear to be moving at all.

Len opened the car door and staggered out on to the empty road. It was still early morning; traffic on the street was non-existent. Inside, he could hear Hihara apologizing for the accidental jerk and Kaji lamenting the condition of his forms. Another door opened and Tsuchiura got out on shaken knees.

"I think we can still use those. They aren't torn at the bar codes, right?" asked Tsuchiura to Kaji, who muttered,

"No, but kind of bent out of shape. Will the computers still accept them, do you think?"

The girl on the street was still not moving.

"I'm really sorry!"

"Calm down. You said you nearly drove into someone?"

"Yeah, Ryo, I think. It was all so fast."

"You think? Are you sure?"

"He nearly did," called Len out to Tsuchiura and Hihara, his back leaned against the minivan as he tried to recover his equilibrium. Yet his eyes were still ever watchful for signs of motion from the girl.

Tsuchiura noted to where Len's sight was and shock, with a mixture of pure concern, coloured his face.

"Oh my God..."

He walked briskly towards her, Len followed suit. Hihara and Kaji too noticed the fallen girl and they both got out of minivan to stare, check themselves and followed behind.

When they approached closer to her, Len noted her apparel and condition. The girl appeared to have fainted in a curled position. She wore black mini shorts and a thick black denim jacket that looked worse for wear; the jacket was torn and frayed at the shoulders.

She also wore a pair of inline skates on her feet, which explained how she moved so quickly. She was also equipped with kneepads, elbow pads, fingerless gloves and a bicycle helmet that covered the top of her head. Her face was buried into the bag she still held tightly.

Tsuchiura dropped to his knee behind her and tried to gently shake her shoulder.

"Hey, miss? Are you alright?"

When she did not respond, he shook harder and called out louder. He was encouraged when she twitched and made a sharp gasp.

Hihara moved to squat next to the girl on the other side.

"Let's get her straightened out so she can breathe and wake up," said Hihara.

"We have to get her off the road," said Len. His eyes scanned for moving vehicles around them and found none so far.

As Hihara gently moved her head and removed her helmet-, "Easy, she's got a bruised cheek there,"-, the girl started to blink owlishly. She made a moan of protest when Tsuchiura tried to pull her arms apart.

"It's okay miss. Are you alright?" asked Hihara with anxiety.

The girl coughed in answer and drew in a deep breath. She blinked again and then focused her eyes on Hihara's face so close to hers.

She gave a startled scream and slapped his face with the back of her gloved hand.

"Owww!!"

The act sounded as painful as it looked. Len caught Hihara's back as the man reeled backwards from the impact. Tsuchiura and Kaji backed off as the girl tried to sit up quickly but it was obvious that she was still dizzy. One palm she pressed against her forehead and she groaned irritably.

Tsuchiura gently patted her back.

"Yeah, take it easy. Is it your head?"

"I... don't know..." muttered the girl.

Even as she returned to consciousness, Len noted that she still had a death grip on her black bag with her arm. He tried to discern her eyes under heavy blond bangs, half-wondering of she had partially dyed her hair from its original mud-brown colour, which was tied tightly into a bun behind her head.

But then the girl jerked her head up and cried, "Oh no!"

She sat up with some difficulty, pushing her skates awkwardly to one side. Hihara, still rubbing his red cheek, temporarily forgot his own pain and asked worriedly.

"Hey, are you okay? Don't get up yet."

But the girl was not deterred. Ignoring all four of them, she unzipped her bag, her shaky fingers showed anxiety. Whatever that was in the bag was precious to her, thought Len. He peeked inside from over the canvas covering and discovered a second surprise in less than fifteen minutes of that morning.

Inside the bag, the girl was gently fingering tiny fluffy forms. Toys? But the balls of fluff then made a recognizable sound. Kittens. Len saw two of them, with pretty wide eyes and they made high-pitched noises the instant she touched them.

This girl who nearly had gotten herself killed by Hihara's minivan, had two kittens in the bag she was trying to protect.

**End of Chapter 02**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Il Suono D'oro**

**Chapter 03: Kittens**

At the moment the little dears gave lively meows, Kumiko felt a relief bigger than the audible one she sighed. The blue-eyed kittens were only a few weeks old; a white one with black ears and black tail and a black one with a white chin and white paws. They did not seem at all frightened or distressed. Then again, zipped in her bag, they had not seen the terrifying incoming vehicle that would have killed them.

And it would have been all her fault too.

She heard a voice saying something to her but she ignored it. Kumiko turned to her second greatest priority; she checked the brown paper packages she had placed at the bottom of her bag, suspecting that those must have cushioned the kittens' great fall from the pedestrian staircase. The brown paper packages, one tied with a white string and the other tied with a black string, felt firm, still tightly wrapped and undamaged. She gave out another sigh.

"I asked, are you an idiot?"

The voice that spoke before had turned angry. Kumiko quickly zipped her bag close and looked up to the speaker from her sitting position. And felt very vulnerable.

Oh boy... She was surrounded. After wild dogs, she was uncomfortable with tall guys. At the moment, there were four of them around her. One of them was crouched behind her, which made her even more nervous. She could not properly see their faces as the glare of the rising sun was in her eyes, casting them into dark profiles. She could not determine their expression; only that they were in her personal space.

"Ex-excuse me..." she spoke slowly.

The left side of her body felt like it had been scraped with massive sandpaper. She was thankful that her jacket and her kneepad had protected her arm and side of her leg, where she had landed hard on. One hand holding on to the bag and the other supporting her body from the ground, Kumiko tried to get up. To get away.

Then came a sudden bout of dizziness that made her loose her sense of balance and nearly caused her to collapse again. Her legs jerked, her feet nearly slipped on her wheels but she stopped herself from falling by bracing her arm on the stone barrier that divided the freeway.

"Oh hey!" cried the green-haired one she had slapped. He held out his hands to help steady her but Kumiko awkwardly moved away from his reach. Oh gosh, she was still in the middle of the road! More reason to get going. She took deep breaths to get her body to recover from her fall.

"You shouldn't skate if you couldn't," said the blond guy.

Her eyes were adjusting to the morning glare. Now that she was half-upright and not feeling so exposed, Kumiko blinked and looked straight at the four men who had found her. One of them had light green hair and a red cheek. Did she hit him? She did remember hitting a face too close to hers. Oh God, she hoped he was not an angry, grudging type.

The ones standing directly behind and in front of her were pretty tall as well; a blond haired and a messy green haired respectively. Then again, their height compared to hers might be deceptive as her inline skates gave her a good 2 inches off the ground. She answered to the one who spoke last.

"I can skate..." she said, but she did not look at him as she said it.

She was looking at the other man behind the blond guy. He had light blue hair and was crossing his arms; his posture and facial expression all screamed that he was displeasingly annoyed about something. Her? Well, that was too bad. Guess she better get out of his sight then.

That thought gave her a bit of determination to pull herself together.

"I'm leaving now," she mumbled, keeping her head down.

Her body still felt shaky, her heart even more, but her bout of dizziness had already passed. Knowing that she would be aching later, she made a mental note to herself to grab some aspirin.

Gently securing her bag over one shoulder, Kumiko bit her bottom lip and skated between them. But she did not move fast enough; the blond guy had his hand reached out and grabbed her outstretched arm, effectively stopping her. She tried to ignore him, yank her arm back and push him away but his grip was firm, though not painful. Still, it gave every indication that he was not going to let her go just yet. She faced him, raised an eyebrow and gave him her most haughty look.

The guy's lip at one corner twitched.

"You've been injured. You shouldn't skate," he said.

"I'm fine," said Kumiko, a little louder than she had intended.

"Are you sure? You still look shaken."

"I'm not!"

"Don't be stubborn. Just walk normally first to check your reflexes,"

"I said I'm fine!"

"Are you sure?"

Kumiko was seriously becoming irritated. Who does this guy think he was? Her doctor? She does not have time for this.

She was going to be late for her meeting.

She twisted her arm and hit his wrist with the back of her fingers, causing him to retreat his touch. She knew she was being out of character, being an inconsiderate sissy to what appeared to be no more than a few concerned guys. But Kumiko could not take chances on outward appearance only. Especially being alone on the street and weak from being half-dizzy.

She pushed herself away from the blond man and skated ignorantly pass the blue-haired moody-looking guy, daring not to look at him.

"You forgot your helmet," came a cool commentary.

Crap. Kumiko slowed and automatically raised her hand to her head and felt only the brush of hair. A blush tinged her cheeks. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she reverberated to herself. She made a wide turn and pushed herself back to the group. She spotted some long dark ribbons of tire markings on the road and a familiar looking minivan parked awkwardly nearby. Oh, were they the ones in that automobile?

The tallest guy had stood up. He was holding out her helmet, looking passively concerning at her. As she started to pick up momentum, she passed next to him, deftly swiping her black helmet from his hand with an almost inaudible 'thank you'. She made another wide and easy turn, circling the standing guys; she was trying to prove to the one who had gripped her arm that she can, indeed, still skate without difficulty.

Not a complete truth. Under her aches, scrapes and bruises, Kumiko did not think she would be sliding on handrails or doing ramps or making jumps for the rest of the whole day.

As she passed the blue-haired man again, he made another remark, almost insultingly.

"Don't throw rubbish on the road next time."

Kumiko could love to hate this guy.

"Whatever!" she retorted loudly,

She pushed herself forward with more speed and making distance between herself and them. As she turned to an exit route from the road that led to the shop lots area, she heard a grief-stricken cry.

"Oh man, my car!"

The charming shops in the area had not opened yet; the walkway, usually teeming with people and activity, was still empty. Kumiko slowed her pace and looked around her.

Somewhere in the vicinity was the meeting place.

Behind her, she heard an incoming vehicle. She instinctively turned and ducked into an alleyway. There was a large metal rubbish box there, big enough to slip beside it and stay unseen from the road. She knew she had to hide; her lone person on the sidewalk would stand out too much for an observant passer-by, not to mention that her clothing was too descript.

The vehicle drove on. She only had a glimpse of brown colour and that was it. Leaning her back against the moldy brick wall, she exhaled a large sigh and slid down to sit on the dirty ground.

Out of sight, out of mind. Well, that was how the saying goes but as she left the men behind her, Kumiko still could not get them out of her mind. What she had done, jumping on the road and rushing ahead to an incoming, fast moving vehicle were one of the scariest, craziest, stupidest things Kumiko had ever done. She knew fully well she could have been killed.

She would do it again in a heartbeat.

"Still," she mumbled inaudibly, "you guys are more trouble than you're worth."

Unzipping her bag, she examined the contents. Over the stack of school books and her still clean plastic-wrapped new school uniform were packages in brown paper. One of them was an old grocery bag that held two tiny, half-sleeping kitties. Their adorableness was mercenary to Kumiko's sense of cuteness, more so in their sleepy state. The black one was obviously trying to stay awake, now that it spotted her.

She smiled and petted its neck with her little finger.

"What have you got for me?" came a deep baritone voice in the dark.

Cuteness moment was abruptly over. Kumiko did not look up from where she watched the kittens. She knew who he was and she knew what he wanted. She kept her face adverted from him, even though they both knew she could not see his face in the alley's shadows. Still, she remembered certain features. Such as he always wore a dark trench coat, even in the summer and that he was the only tall man she was not scared of.

"Kittens," said Kumiko.

The man made no answer, but she got the impression that he was waiting for her to explain with suppressed impatience. She continued,

"There are new kittens on the loose."

From inside the bag, she took out the other two brown packages, one tied with white strings and the other with black strings. Turning to the shadowed man, she tossed them one by one at him as she would a basketball into a hoop, certain that she was not too err in her judgment of his distance from her seating. They disappeared into the cloaked darkness as the man neatly caught them in the air.

"Imported?" he muttered.

"Dunno. Didn't stop to ask the breeders."

"They got names?" She heard a slight ripping noise. He must be tearing open the packages.

"I think the Americans would call them, crack and... weed?" she said softly. Her attention was mostly focused on the kittens. She carefully carried the paper grocery sack out of her bag and placed it on her lap, zipping her bag as well.

A sniff and then a grunt.

"Cocaine," said the man. Then come a second tearing sound.

"And this is marijuana," This time the man sounded surprised.

Kumiko said nothing but inwardly, she somehow felt slightly pleased. Of course, hell would freeze first before she expected the shadowed man to praise her. She knew his character too well. In fact, so does he.

"How did you know I was in the area?" she asked, "I was surprised when I got your phone call."

The man paused from his inspection of the goods.

"You can hide things like this from your tutor, your brother and even your landlord's family but not from me," he sounded menacing, almost aggravated that she had asked.

Kumiko inwardly grinned, keeping her face passive from letting him see her humour.

"I did a good last job, right?"

"Yeah, you did," was the answering reply. Then silence.

Taking the meeting as finished, the man turned and walked away. Kumiko blinked at his sudden retreat and called out for him to wait a moment. She got up from where she sat and moved closer to him in the darkness.

"What?" he asked.

"Turn around," said Kumiko with a purposely-teasing voice.

And when the man did obediently, she thrush the bag of two kittens to him with a deceptive smile.

The man stammered, "Wh-wh-what the...?"

One of his arms involuntarily curled around the paper sack, the other arm was juggling the 2 other paper packages. Even in the gloom of the alley, Kumiko knew that he could see the tiny shapes in the sack.

"I did say I got you kittens, didn't I?" she said.

The man paused for a moment, and then he spoke, sounding almost angry.

"What the hell is this?"

"Kittens."

"I can see that, woman!" he hissed, but Kumiko was not deterred.

"They were starving. And there were wild dogs everywhere. I couldn't just leave them in that place."

"And what the hell do you want me to do about it? Do I look like a pet-sitter?"

"Just drop them off at my landlady's. Quietly of course."

"I don't have time for this."

"It's just a small thing! I already did _you_ a favour."

"Is that so? Are these things why you got yourself injured?"

Injured? Oh yeah, her bruised cheek. Kumiko had forgotten about that. She could not feel it then, and now that he reminded her, it did feel like there was some sharp stinging on her face. Was it that visible? How bad was her bruise? She would have to check herself on the mirror the first thing when she gets to school.

"You nearly jeopardize yourself? Over _kittens?!_" the man's bellow was tightly suppressed. No matter his temper, neither of them could shout in the alley, lest they risk getting caught together.

Still, Kumiko snapped back with her own vehemence. Unlike him, she spoke very softly, very slowly.

"I couldn't save their mother, alright?"

Silence.

"The dogs already got her," she continued.

Again, a momentary pause.

"The dogs chased you, didn't they?" he asked, his tone softer now.

She nodded.

"All the way up the pedestrian bridge?"

A recent memory sparked, of Kumiko skating for her life on the bridge. A pack of dogs was chasing her. One of them had made a lunge for her backpack. She twisted and struck the animal hard with her arm but the act dislodged her bag from her. The bag flew over the railing and into the streets. When she saw the incoming brown minivan, she could not stop even to think what she was doing.

A pain formed inside her stomach, mixed in badly with the memory of pain from old emotional scars. Kumiko stopped herself before she started to sniff.

"Awww, crap."

Kumiko stared at the man. He sounded almost apologetic, like he was conceding.

"Yeah well, whatever. You're not on my paycheck anymore anyway,"

He closed the kittens' bag, rolled the top part and made it look like it was an extra large lunch sack.

"And having pets would probably keep you out of trouble. Not that I care."

Her eyes grew wide, followed by a burst of warmth.

"Thanks!" she nearly shouted.

The man was startled and quickly shushed her but Kumiko skated backwards in glee.

"I'll be home late though," she smiled, "Can you get them into a clean box and maybe a saucer of milk? Once Mrs. Koganei spots them, she'll be atwitter by their tiny meows."

She made a quick _pirouette_ and got out of the alley, her heart rising with the sun's glow on her back.

"I owe you major big!" she laughed and then skated off without looking back, her hands busy retying her helmet back on her head.

If Kumiko had looked back, if she had stayed a moment bit longer, she would see that the man in the shadows groaned and then smiled a soft, almost regretful smile.

"Kumiko..."

**End of Chapter 03**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	4. Chapter 4

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Il Suono D'oro

**Chapter 04: Feels Like A Familiar Theme**

"Guys, what happened?!" cried Kahoko at the unpleasant surprise.

With her thumb, she gingerly rubbed the creases both the audition forms Kaji had reluctantly passed to her. On the top of the forms were printed with her name on one and Kaji's name on the other. Though not badly bend out of shape, the A5 sized cream coloured manila papers with their embossed Seisou University logo was pretty wrinkled to look at, especially when compared to Len's, Hihara's and Yunoki's nicely flat audition forms.

"Heh. I accidentally used them as an airbag this morning. I'm really sorry about them," mumbled an apologetic Kaji.

As he said it, his eye shot a quick glance of meaning at a pouting Hihara. But Hihara caught the glance and spontaneously spoke his thoughts.

"Hey, c'mon! Don't look at me like that, Aoi. I didn't wake up this morning and decided to try some Tokyo drifting."

"Of course you didn't. That wasn't Tokyo drift, that was Tokyo taxi cab," said Kaji sarcastically.

"Hey!"

"Hahaha, easy fellas. You two had been going on at it throughout Music Theory class." said Tsuchiura reassuringly, patting his hands on the two guys' shoulders. "I think Kazuki's new dent and few scratches just adds character to it, don't you think?"

Kaji and Hihara simply exchanged childish _humphs_. Len only rolled his eyes heavenward but managed to check himself when Yunoki noticed him and smiled mischievously at his own conduct.

It was just before noon and they were standing on the sidewalk outside the third largest music auditorium on campus. Usually the hall was reserved for private assembles practices, high school plays or PhD students' thesis defense lectures. In Len's mind, he thought it had small difference to the main hall back in the Academy, even in architecture.

Hihara contemplated his own audition form, given to him by Yunoki.

"I can't believe I missed this yesterday!" said Hihara.

"Yeah, Mr. Nakamura had wanted to give this to you after the lecture, but you took off so suddenly," said Yunoki.

Hihara gave a rueful grin. "Well, my mom was making roast chicken last night and I had to get home before my brother does, so... heh."

"Well then, now. Should we wait for Shoko and Shimizu?" asked Yunoki. He scanned the ever-moving parade of people going into the building, noting the ones in Seisou high school uniforms.

Len shook his head, "Let's just get inside. We shouldn't be tardy if they aren't considerate enough to be punctual."

"Aww c'mon, Len. Maybe their ride got stuck in traffic or something," said Kahoko. She turned to the crowd and wondered aloud, "There are an awful lot of people coming. Do you think they're all here for the same thing as we are?"

"Of course," said Yunoki. "This is a very great opportunity. It's not everyday a famous musician like Mr. Kamiya gives such an offer." Charmingly, he turned to the group in general. "And it would nice if we all get accepted, don't you think? It's been quite a while since we were together as a team."

Only Kaji made a cough in answer, "Oh hell, Yunoki. You make it sound like we're forever in each others' shoes."

"Not at all," said Yunoki. He also turned to Len as he spoke, "I have confidence that we work best if we're together again as we're all so familiar with each other."

"Yeah, I guess so," shrugged Kaji sheepishly.

Behind the exchange, Len observed the two scions of different dynasties. Two years ago, Yunoki and Kaji would have been considered as contemporaries of sorts, even though they were of different age and class department back in high school. Both were charming and had interests in Kahoko Hino. Both of them had high proficiency in the musical arts and both of them were hindered by familial obligations. But both of them had fought and struggled last year to earn their right as individuals, to proceed toward their own life's course.

Though not without consequences.

Azuma Yunoki was now considered an outcast, a black sheep of his family and was forbidden from any direct contact. It was the pride of the Yunokis had stopped the clan from completely disowning their third son. If other factors had been included, Len had heard not a rumour.

Still, even to Len's jaded eye, Yunoki seemed... happier, with himself. Subtly yet sincerely.

When he had graduated from the Academy, he obeyed the darling wish of his grandmother and taken a business study at another university. But this year, he finally rebelled and got his credits transferred into Seisou University. Though he still took a business study, he also had taken a second major, this time, in music, though starting in the first year.

And that apparently sealed him as a heathen in his family's estimates. By sheer luck, his educational funds had been kept separate from the greater family's joint accounts, thus he was in sole control of them and was able to still pay for his tuitions. But Providence had not included his daily needs, such as food, clothing and house rent, so he had also taken a part-time job.

In talking of once again being a team, Len had wondered how Yunoki would be able to juggle on so many factors; both his studies, his part-time job, his exclusion from his family, his depleting educational funds and maybe some others still hidden under the rug.

And now he wants to join the orchestral? It was not his business, but Len made a mental note to be aware of possible difficulties that might arose the future. Still, Yunoki seem to be doing fine with himself; Len could not detect any sign of lack or stress in his countenance or behaviour. Even his attire was still expensive and branded.

"Then, I suppose," began Yunoki, "That shouldn't you fill out those forms? It won't do to accidentally loose them in this crowd."

"That's right! It's better now than during Mr. Kamiya's speech," said Hihara.

"And I don't want to miss a minute of it," said Kahoko, "What about your form, Ryo?"

"Don't worry, I filled out mine last night," said Tsuchiura, waving his own neatly flat form.

"Great! Could you hold my bag for a minute?"

Enthusiastically, Kahoko held out her handbag to Tsuchiura, who took it without thinking, and she wiped out her pen from one of the side pockets. Studying her form, she looked the contents, trying to discern where and how to start writing.

Kaji grinned at Tsuchiura while Hihara walked a few steps away, covering his mouth with his hand and snickered softly. Before the reserve player of the university's soccer team could orientate that he was holding on to a lady's large pink handbag with swinging plushie-dolls keychains and stuffed pockets, Kaji quickly turned his back to Kahoko and bend on one knee.

"Here, you can write on it properly if you use my back as a table," he said to her from over his shoulder.

Kahoko blinked up to him, then smiled gleefully, "Oh thank you, Aoi."

She quickly took advantage of his offer. Tsuchiura went blanch for a moment before he briefly threw Kaji a glare that said retribution would come later, possibly when he was not holding on to Kahoko's handbag.

The other rebellion, Aoi Kaji, also seemed to have not changed much in his lifestyle. Like Yunoki, he too was supposed to follow a pre-set course that had been dictated by his family since before his birth. However, it appeared that Kaji's outcome of confronting his elders was more positive. The man had not been ostracized and seemed to even have had some degree of support in his heart's decision.

If only life was as easy as that but if Len had learned anything during the two years he had known Kaji, it was that his family's patriarch was no less firm on his stance about his grandson than the Yunoki's matriarch on hers. So what had Kaji done to be given such a favourable outcome to his revolt against tradition?

If there was more to what Kaji had told them about his grandfather submitting to his choice of career, that too Len had not heard about anymore more, save that the old man had recently given much attention to a young medical prodigy from outside the family circles.

"Hey, guys," said a sudden male voice behind Len.

He turned to find two Seisou Academy music students. Like the rest of the crowd that wore the Academy's uniform, both of them had dark scarves.

"About time both of you had arrived," said Len. He turned to nod to each of them, "Ms. Fuyuumi, Shimizu."

At the sound of their names, Kahoko turned to them both and beamed. She rushed towards them, leaving the other guys to fill out their own audition forms and Tsuchiura, still holding her bag, to scowl after her.

"Shoko! Keiichi! Oh, I almost thought both of you would never make it," she said.

"Hi Kahoko," said Shoko, shyly, "Oh, there was, um, a bit of a people traffic near the campus cafeteria."

"Yeah," Shimizu half-mumbled, "It's like, almost lunchtime, isn't it? I guess people do get hungry sometimes. But I kind of think, it's kind of weird."

"Weird? How?" asked Kahoko, but she had a smirk of anticipation.

"Well, people always order from the menu, but they don't all eat the same thing," Shimizu shrugged, "So they should be full and hungry again at different times. I wonder why everybody is always hungry by lunchtime?"

Kahoko and Shoko blanked for a moment at his comment, before they both broke into restrained giggles. Len contemplated the emergence of his two juniors, now as third high school year students facing their entrance exams.

Outwardly, neither of them seemed to have changed much, except that Shoko had grown more womanly; she allowed her hair to grow a little longer and be less confined. Other than that, Len thought she was still as shy and as quiet as ever, though he did not know her in the same familiar terms as Kahoko did.

With his cello in its case next to him, Shimizu possessed a fair and angelic appearance was often considered so beautiful that it made women weep when he smiled. And he had grown tall; he was now as tall as Kaji in fact, which made him even happier because he was able to hold his cello better. He smiled more often nowadays, no longer walked around the streets with his face buried in a book, was less inclined to sleep at odd times and odd places and was more aware of the world around him.

Though he still lugged his cello about with him, no matter where he went, no matter what the distance and no matter what the occasion. Len guessed that some characters just could not change with time.

Like Hihara. Len turned to the guys who were still busy with their audition forms and spotted Kaji filling his out on Hihara's back.

"Hold this for Kahoko, will ya?" grumbled Tsuchiura, almost inaudibly, to Hihara. He held out the pink bag in his outstretched arm with the tips of his fingers.

But Hihara kept his hands in his pockets, "The etiquette here is that you got to hold on to whatever your girlfriend passes to you, or else she gets confused on where she left it."

"Amen!" cheered Kaji, still scribbling on his form.

"You just made that up," growled Tsuchiura.

Suddenly, someone made a loud whistle from within the crowd and Tsuchiura, horrified that it might have been aimed at him, quickly dropped his arm that carried the bag to his side. He tried to pose nonchalantly, but with discouraging results as the guys continue to exhibit badly-suppressed snickering.

Len observed and contemplated Hihara's easy-going mannerism. His former high school senior was in all things, including conduct, pose, approach and everything else under the sun, so different in comparison to Len's own philosophy and discipline toward music and life. There were times Len wondered what madness of Fate had brought Hihara into his orbit and why he never left.

Yet, despite his cheerfulness with his trumpet, or perhaps because of it, there was no accounting Hihara's absorbed seriousness towards his musical studies. The year before, Hihara had taken a foundation year instead of following the rest of his classmates to the first year. Foundation years were usually offered to non-musical students, often from outside Seisou.

Though he became a year behind, there was no mistaking the new level of music skillfulness Hihara could express with his trumpet. Like Yunoki, Hihara too had taken a part-time job to support himself, though from his ever casual style of dress, the two best friends' jobs was most probably not in the same caliber.

As Len watched Yunoki gestured to Tsuchiura, who had also declined to hold Kahoko's pink handbag, he wondered if Hihara's decision to take a foundation year was to give his best friend a chance to think, to give Yunoki some encouragement to return to the musical world. Or perhaps, in another way, it could have been interpreted that if Yunoki could no longer be allowed to play his flute, Hihara would play better for the sake of their friendship.

Tsuchiura then noticed Len observing them with crossed arms. When he did not say a word, Len raised a patronizing eyebrow at the offending woman's accessory.

"Yes?" he asked with an icy dare.

"Nevermind," said Tsuchiura, flashing a quick half-grin, half-grimace.

"Aren't you guys ready yet?"

Kahoko returned to them with Shoko in tow and bearing impatience. 'If we don't hurry, all the best seats would be taken."

Kaji muttered that he was almost done. He then inquired about the internet forms Kahoko was supposed to provide. Unlike the formal audition forms, the internet printed audition forms were for those wishing only to be part of the orchestral. Submitted together with the more formal forms written with remarks from their respective university lecturers, the documents specified that the musician wanted to _lead_ the instrument groups, which was an even trickier process.

"Don't worry, I kept them in my bag," said Kahoko. Throwing an impish glance at Kaji, she added, "To make sure I don't accidentally crush _them_."

Kaji just groaned in reply.

She turned to Tsuchiura and took her handbag out of his hands, "Thanks for keeping it safe." Her voice was soft.

Tsuchiura blinked in a momentary lapse and then returned her handbag with a smile,

"Yeah, uh, it was no big deal. My pleasure, actually."

Len threw him a pointed look laden with all meaning _macho hypocrite_ but Tsuchiura ignored him.

Of all the members of his acquaintance, Tsuchiura was the man Len could most easily predict because Tsuchiura took to music and life almost as seriously as Len does. And the understanding between them went both ways. There were things Tsuchiura knew Len would or would not do and vice versa, whether it was music or life.

Except that Tsuchiura was not always guarded in speaking his mind. When he had a point, he would speak it clear and concise. Yet lately, Tsuchiura seemed indecisive about something recently, like a particularly heavy problem was weighing on his mind. At times, Len caught a glimpse of his old rival's differing emotions when the latter thought that no one was looking, particularly Kahoko.

Though Tsuchiura's genuine interaction with Kahoko never wavered, Len had the odd sense that it might have something to do with her.

And then, there was Kahoko. At the corner of his eye, Len watched as she rummaged through her bag, looking for the papers in between her files and books. As always, her score books were inserted with bookmark stickers, though she had long traded her CD player for an MP3 player. The trailing wire of the headphones was still clipped to the collar of her shirt.

It was Kahoko who had brought a turning point in his life two years ago. She, who had bewitched him and showed him a music that could not be taught, only learned. Her kindness was generous, her innocence was freshness, and her determination in playing her violin well for the delight of simply playing well was admirable.

The delight of playing well; Len was incorporating it into his own mastery.

In other aspects, namely her interaction with Tsuchiura, did not seem to have affected her playing in any other way than making them both perform more beautifully. They practiced with each other more often than with anyone else; their message written together was all... _passionate_.

His expression passive, Len turned his head away.

Kahoko passed the internet prints around and gestured vigorously to the auditorium's entrance-, "No time! Let's get inside first and then we fill those out."-, before she returned to Tsuchiura's side. She took his hand into hers automatically and blushed faintly as she urged them all to look for seats as close as possible to the center stage.

Gentlemanly, Yunoki offered Shoko to proceed before him and she shyly did, with Hihara and Kaji following suit and Shimizu trudging along, mindful of not bumping his cello to those around him.

Len took a step to follow them, but an uncertain intuition crept into his mind and it stopped him.

Yunoki had commented that since they were all so familiar with each other, it would bring out their best performance if they all get accepted into the audition.

Familiar...?

Len suspected that there was more to what Yunoki had said within the context of his words. Familiarity with each other, playing together, means being as it was before, when they all were once the proud ensemble of Seisou Academy.

When he was the star of his school, Yunoki was the princely gentleman, Hihara the joyful honker, Kaji the new guy, Shoko the shy clarinet girl, Shimizu the introvert, Tsuchiura the refined jock... and Kahoko was, in all aspects, her unique self.

But times had changed. Lives had grown. Challenges forecasted. Experiences shared. Memories made. Futures revealed.

_Except for him_.

With that insight, Len wondered if he himself had changed much. He felt like he was still Len Tsukimori, the same person who had fought and struggled to achieve greater heights than his peers.

He had always been alone. But Kahoko Hino, with her prickly character and overwhelming frankness, proved that he had not need to be. And that worried him the most.

Everyone else had changed as well.

The old team that had been formed from two years ago was not familiar to him.

"Len!"

Len looked forward ahead and saw Kahoko waving at him with the slowly dispersing crowd between them.

"Len, hurry up! I'm sure you don't want to miss a moment of Mr. Kamiya's entrance either!" cried Kahoko cheerfully.

Len exhaled. There was no point on worrying such trivial things. Orchestral teams come and go like the changing tides. What was important was that he played his best and cemented his role as _the best_, just as he always does.

"Yes, Kahoko, I'm coming," said Len, quickening his pace.

**End of Chapter 04**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	5. Chapter 5

**Il Suono D'oro **

**Chapter 05: The Foreshadowed Concertos**

Just as Len expected, even the interior of the auditorium was not much different from the main hall back in his high school. Duly noted, much of the university had been designed with Seisou Academy graduates in mind, thus a cognitive approach to building a familiar environment had probably been added into the construction so that the students would be more quickly to orientate themselves into the facilities.

Or, the university just did not have the budget to hire a modern architect.

The place was nearly bursting at the seams with peofple. There were plenty of university students and high school students; some, like Keiichi, were also carrying their instruments in cases of varying shapes and sizes. Amongst the crowd, there were many lecturers Len recognized from the music faculty and also some lecturers from other faculties. The hall was like a movie premiere; people moved slowly to give space, make way and there were a few suppressed curses and quick apologies as toes were accidentally stepped on.

Such was the reputation of the musician, more so in the nature of his project.

As he walked along with the moving traffic of people on the aisle between the hall's seating chairs, Len spotted Yunoki tapping Hihara on the shoulder. Hihara responded and Yunoki pointed to him a grumpy-looking lecturer of some distance away. Hihara's face turned pale and he gave Yunoki a falsely cheery grin and gestured his hand to some empty seats far on the opposite direction of the lecturer. Yunoki nodded and signaled to Kahoko of his and Hihara's separation.

Kahoko waved goodbye to them and searched for more empty seats. She noted to Tsuchiura and Len to the rows close to the front of the stage, in the middle rows. It was obvious that Tsuchiura wanted to stay next to Kahoko, but the front rows was also populated with many female audience, most of whom were chatting animatedly, dressed their hair finely and were giving dramatic sighs to the figures on the stage, the main guests.

And Tsuchiura looked like he was near the end of tether.

"Why don't you and Shoko take those seats? I, um..." he swung his head around, checking the area; either for an excuse or for other places with less ominous seaters.

Feeling the situation, Len suddenly, and reluctantly, felt charitable to Tsuchiura.

"There are still some seats right over there," he said, pointing to the few a little further at the back of the hall. "We'll be close to the receiving tables, once the speech is done. That way, we won't need to waste time being in queue when we need to send in our forms."

At the back of the hall were four long tables, each topped with some used cardboard boxes and other papers. Each table also had two seated persons idly playing with their stationary, watching ahead to the people having a muted discussion on the stage.

Kahoko followed Len's reasoning, nodded, "Okay," and grinned at Tsuchiura, "And you're quite tall as well. It'll be uncomfortable for you to have to keep your head down."

In an exchange as any couple in a relationship, Kahoko gave Tsuchiura a wink as she said it and the latter simply answered with a cynical smirk.

The girls moved up ahead. Shimizu absent-mindedly made to follow the two, to brave through the crowd of girls-, or rather, ignorant of what his presence in that midst would mean-, but Kaji managed to stop him by grabbing his back collar. He cited that it would be hazardous to maneuver his cello between walking people all the way to the queue so he had better stick with the rest of them at the back.

"But they're about to play," Shimizu whined, his finger pointed to the stage. 'And I want to listen closely."

Len looked toward the stage and saw that the people standing on it seem to have finished their huddled chat. There were seven people on the stage, four of them had taken out violins and one had a cello. He studied to identify them; the two standbys were those he knew very well. One was Mr. Fukuda, one of the deans of the music faculty, and the other was Mr. Kira, current director of Seisou Academy and former acquaintance of his back in high school.

"Testing, testing," said Mr. Fukuda to the microphone on the wooden podium. "Can we have everyone sit down and be comfortable?" At the back of the hall, the man's voice was heard clearly from the speakers.

The vocal crowd gradually lowered their voices. Len felt a pull at the sleeve of his arm and found Tsuchiura signaling him to the chairs. He followed him; at behind, Kaji was manfully directing Shimizu at the back seats by the younger man's shoulders despite Shimizu protests.

Len took quick glances back to the stage at he sat into his chair. The dean announced that Mr. Kamiya and his team were going to play a short piece of his own composition and hoped that everyone will keep quiet, listen and enjoy. A tactical strategy indeed, the crowd in the hall consisted of juniors and seniors meeting and exchanging news. Many were laughing and talking. Witness Kahoko and Shoko together; even the often quiet and shy latter did not seem to hold back.

When the first notes floated, every other sound abruptly disappeared. On the stage, the quintet played masterfully. Len realized that one of the violinists had dark red hair and wore glasses, Shinobu Ousaki. The veteran virtuoso was a very good friend of theirs; even keeping in contact with them after Ousaki had left for Vienna. He had won numerous awards in international competitions, yet this was the first time Len had seen him with Mr. Kamiya, let alone actually accompanying him on the violin.

Mr. Ritsu Kamiya was leading the piece, of course. The man had dark short hair with bangs that often get in the way of the eyes, not unlike Len's own hairstyle. He was in his early thirties, of tall stature and good built, which explained the large female crowd at the front rows. But it was his music, not his fan-base that accounted for his ever-growing success. And the fact that his father, Maestro Kamiya, was an internationally acclaimed violinist had not hurt his reputation the least.

Len involuntarily felt an inner grimace.

The three others playing was not unknown personalities either. The cello player was a well-recognized soloist at many concertos held in Japan and Canada while the other violinist, a white foreigner, was a noted bandleader in various symphony orchestras in American theaters. The third violinist, a young woman in loose clothing, was none other than Mrs. Kamiya, herself an expert in her own right. Len noticed that she had a smile on her face as she played.

The piece, a canon, was short and quickly over, yet it still rang in Len's ears when all the other sounds were applause and cheers from the audience. For that, he did not clap, but committed the notes, the melody, everything of the song into his memory. The music would have been described as elegant but it also felt lively. It was indeed a very good short composition in Len's opinion.

"He looks bored, don't you think?" said Kaji to nobody in particular.

Len blinked and for a moment, he thought Kaji had meant Mr. Kamiya. Mr. Kamiya, who was ushering his wife to the sofas on the stage, looked more like a contented man than a bored man. But Kaji's line of sight was directed at Kira, the Academy's director. The dark-haired man sitting on the sofa indeed looked at if he rather were anywhere else than in the hall.

"Since when does he look like anything else?" quipped Tsuchiura, "Remember how Kira enjoys music? Only 2 compliments a decade and he's already used them both on Kahoko."

Kaji laughed but it was abruptly smothered as the music dean started to speak.

The dean thanked all the Seisou Academy graduates and third-years for coming in that day and that their chosen path to continue music in Seisou University was an admirable and worthy decision. He continued on this vein for a while, adding that their participating into the short-term orchestra project would greatly benefit their careers and so on and so on and so on. Thankfully, the dean finished just before Len felt like he needed to suppress his yawns.

The next speaker was Mr. Kamiya. His contented expression had vanished during the dean's speech and standing at the podium, he looked more like someone facing a duty he rather avoid doing. From where he left Mrs. Kamiya on the sofa, she was taking unnecessarily small sips from her glass of water but she kept it close to cover her mouth, her eyes were merry with inner mirth.

"Good afternoon," began Mr. Kamiya. "I don't want to miss my lunch hour and I'm sure you all don't want that either. So I will get straight to the point."

A collective sigh of relief flowed from the audience, broken with a chuckle or two at the statement.

"As stated in your university's website, I have personally requested for a short-term chamber-sized orchestra consisting entirely out of Seisou Academy graduates and third-year high school students. The reason pertaining to this, I will now reveal, is that I have a proposal for six concerto compositions to be performed by this orchestra for a self-published album I am working on."

Like a veteran performer he was, he gave a moment for his audience to gather gasps and exchange mummers before he continued,

"These compositions are of my original work and have never been heard. The canon earlier was not any part of the project; that was only to get your attention. There are six concertos in all; three of them are soloist for string instruments and one woodwind. The other two are a trumpet concerto and a piano concerto."

That got the audience riled up, making loud whispers and everybody was trying to catch the eye of a friend or three on every other side of the hall, wanting to exchange speculative glances. It was so much suppressed chaos so that Mr. Kamiya loudly patted his hand on the wooden stand of the podium to restore order. His next words sounded serious, very serious.

"Now this is an opportunity I am quite strict to give. I expect discipline on punctuality for practices, integrity between members and high quality of performance. I will review on every large group practice session and those who are not up to my _expectations_ will be replaced," said Mr. Kamiya, his tongue rolled strong emphasis on the word 'expectations'.

"I also have other symphony orchestras working on my album so I run a tight ship here. The nature of these compositions I would not say yet, but those who are selected to be part of this orchestra will have two months to practice for each composition. At the end of those two months, I will decide if the song is to my satisfaction. Otherwise, all of you can forget about peeking inside the recording studio."

Sitting all on Len's right side, Kaji and Tsuchiura were paying very close attention; even Shimizu was looking straight at the speaker. Len took a second to scan between the heads of the listening crowd, looking for that of his friends. Far ahead, he noticed Kahoko smiling, maybe comforting, to a somewhat sick looking Shoko; her face kept turning from green to red then pale and then back to green.

On the other side with some distance between them, Hihara was talking so excitedly that even Len could hear his voice, though he could not make out the words. Beside him, Yunoki possessed his usual poker-wining face, yet it was not smiling. Rather, with his fingers making a shape of a steeple in front of his face, Yunoki looked like he was thinking, contemplating.

Len felt like contemplating as well. Three concertos for string instruments... violin? Though Mr. Kamiya played and wrote for a wide range of instruments, he first made his mark into the music world as a violinist. Len possessed much of his CDs; the man's skill with the instrument was both meticulous and inspirational.

But, about the concertos... _who would be the soloist?_

"It depends on your audition," said Mr. Kamiya.

Len looked up to see who had posed the question of his thoughts aloud. He should have guessed it. Len saw Kahoko, half-standing and her hand still half-raised and Mr. Kamiya's attention focused on her. With most of the audience attention at her as well, Shoko, who sat beside her, did not turn any greener but she did not seem any more calm either. For that matter, neither did Kahoko looked composed; she probably had imposed the question on impulse.

Undeterred, Mr. Kamiya continued to explain,

"I believe, all of you shall also be given a chance to audition to become first seaters of the bands? As I have stated, the orchestra would be entirely from Seisou Academy. Thus, the soloist for the concertos, to be playing for my album record, would be chosen also based on your auditions as well."

"Alright!" said Mr. Kamiya, slapping his palms together, "_Now_ I will allow an answer and question session. I invite a member of my team, Mr. Ousaki, to be interrogated by all of you so I can have my lunch in peace."

An amused Ousaki stood up and approached Mr. Kamiya. The two of them shook hands and exchanged whispered confidences for a bit, before the older man turned to the rest of his team. Kira also stood and seemed to direct a few words of his own at Mr. Kamiya. At the podium, Ousaki cleared his throat for a moment before her spoke to the microphone.

"My name is Shinobu Ousaki," he began, "And I will be happy to answer any question you would like to ask."

It seemed like the audience had a lot of questions, and in much variety. Such as if the members would be paid for the project, do they have to sign a contract, how many reserved places, when would be the audition date and such similar inquiries rolled on. Other types of inquiries, the ones most people truly curious about, were not put forth toward Ousaki, as it would be irrelevant. Nonetheless, they reverberated between the crowds in conspiratorial whispers.

"Ritsu Kamiya is so hot, does he work out?"

"Is it true that Mrs. Kamiya is pregnant? She doesn't look like it."

"Do you think we can bring our cellphones? Maybe sneak recording the scores?"

"That was Mr. Kira, wasn't it? How much do you think he'll earn from the project?"

"Wasn't the album for charity?"

"Rumour has it that Maestro Kamiya and Mr. Kamiya had a falling out once."

"I heard that the sponsors were pretty hard to convince."

"C'mon," said Len, standing up, "Let's submit the forms now."

Kaji and Tsuchiura traded looks and they got up as well. Len got out into the aisle first, and then followed by Kaji, then Tsuchiura. As expected, Shimizu was still sitting in his seat, his forehead against the cello case; Len could not tell he was either listening to the question-answer session or he was trying to stop himself from nodding off. But Tsuchiura took one look behind him to check on Shimizu and the man instantly rolled his eyes. He turned back and hauled the third-year high school student by his arm to stand up and get out into the aisle.

"But they might play more," said Shimizu. He was staring at the standing group on the stage having a discussion. The Kamiyas and Kira were nowhere in sight.

"I don't think so, buddy," said Kaji, "They don't look like the types who would forgo lunch just to give us an extra free concert."

"Yeah, maybe they have had the same breakfast together," said Shimizu and Kaji gave him a look of mock hilarity.

That was when Tsuchiura's cell phone started to ring. It was '_Fur Elise_'.

"Kahoko?" he answered.

Len turned to the direction of where Kahoko was sitting and saw her made a wave of her hand. She had obviously spotted them getting up. Automatically, he turned to where Hihara and Yunoki was as well and found that they were already approaching towards them from behind; the two had encircled around from the other aisle with Hihara waving to get their attention.

"Yeah, get Shoko and come join us," said Tsuchiura. He ended the call and closed the clampshell cellphone with a snap.

Like them, others of the audience were getting up and getting ready to submit their forms at the respective receiving tables. There were four tables, each representing a different band of instruments; string, woodwind, percussion and brass. There was also another, slightly smaller table next to the brass table; on it, the paper sign reads 'Piano Masters'. There was only one person behind the counter and he looked as grumpy as Hihara's lecturer.

While the others were busy checking their forms-, Kaji was still rubbing on the wrinkles of his but there were no way to get rid of them-, Len noted that Tsuchiura was looking vaguely at the piano table without actually seeing it. Strangely enough, it was the same expression Len had glimpsed on his friend's face that very morning in Hihara's car.

"You are not worried about _that_, are you?" asked Len.

Tsuchiura blinked for a second but then replied emotionlessly, "A little bit, I guess,"

"I read that the requirements for piano instrument is extremely high,"

"Yeah," muttered Tsuchiura, slapping his form carelessly against the palm of his hand. "There's no need for a lot of piano players. The one chosen for the orchestra would also be the one performing the concerto."

"Do you think that you're up to it?" challenged Len.

Tsuchiura gave him a pointed glare, "I play my own way, as you very well know that."

"Then don't look so forlorn. Or livid," said Len, "One might think that you weren't truly serious in auditioning."

Before Tsuchiura could throw a rejoinder, Kahoko and Shoko trailed up to them, each with blushed cheeks.

"I did it!" she squealed excitedly. She tried to say more but she was taking in great breaths. Len and Tsuchiura stared at her in impatient silence but it was Shoko who spoke.

"She had been edgy on wanting to speak with Mr. Kamiya directly. And she did!" smiled Shoko.

"Hey, you just posed him a question, that's all," said Tsuchiura.

"Yes, and it was a general question. Anybody would have thought of it," said Len.

But the stars were still shining in Kahoko's eyes. "He was the real thing! He answered so nicely and clearly and there I was just standing there, I was so afraid that I might not understand what he said."

"Speaking of questions," said Len, diverting the subject from Kahoko's star-struckness. "I was surprised that Mr. Ousaki was acquainted with Mr. Kamiya. Had he ever indicated that they were working together?"

It was Kahoko who answered, "I think he mentioned it to me once, sometime last year."

"Last year?" asked Len.

"Yes. Mr. Ousaki went back to Vienna last year to attend a conference. He once said to me that he might have a chance of meeting Mr. Kamiya there as he was at the same conference place as well," said Kahoko, "Looks like they really took off, if Mr. Ousaki's working alongside Mr. Kamiya now."

"Wow, that's cool. I wonder what his role in Kamiya's orchestra?" wondered Tsuchiura.

"I don't know. Oh gosh, I really should have asked! But I guess still thinking of Mr. Kamiya," said Kahoko dreamily.

Tsuchiura turned his head and mumbled out of earshot but Len thought he caught the words, _"And what am I? Chopped tuna?"_

Vienna. The name of that place in Austria, the place of his musical dream, rang softly like a breeze in Len's thoughts. Yes, he remembered that Ousaki was going back to Vienna last year. In fact, it was almost a year ago that Ousaki himself had approached Len and offered to accompany Len to go back to Vienna, now that the 'certain circumstances' that had prevented Len from pursuing his dream had been solved.

But there had been other circumstances; other events that had made him decide to stay in Japan. Those accumulating events were followed by another and another and before he realized it, he was graduating with full honors in Seisou Academy and had enrolled himself as a student in Seisou University.

When he could have been in Vienna, meeting with Kamiya and Ousaki and the greater orchestra team.

His thoughts were broken when Shimizu patted him on the shoulder.

"What now?" he asked, "Shall we queue up?"

Right. Queuing up. Long lines were already being formed at the receiving tables.

"Let's not waste anymore time then," said Len, "I want to get into the practice rooms before we get into the afternoon classes."

"Sounds great!" Hihara jumped up from behind them. "Hey! Let's all get lunch together right? I heard that there's a couple of new vending machines at the campus cafeteria."

"Okay!" said Kahoko immediately. "Let's all meet at the same spot from outside after this." She smiled at Shoko and the younger girl nodded shyly.

Hihara went to the brass table while Shoko and Yunoki took off to the woodwind table. Shimizu and Kaji were already in the string instruments line and waiting for him and Kahoko. Len noted that Tsuchiura was still standing alone, meddling with his form and giving the piano table some quick glances. A small queue had formed there but by the looks of the people in the queue, they all seemed nervous as well and with good reason. On studying the forms given to him, the grumpy man at the table was very visual in his expression of which of the candidates whose qualifications he rejected, either with a shaking of the head or the hand.

Kahoko nudged Tsuchiura with an elbow toward the table.

"You'll be fine," Len heard her say.

"I guess," Tsuchiura shrugged.

Half-incensed at his attitude, Kahoko closed both her hands on Tsuchiura's free hand and whispered something quietly. Tsuchiura's countenance became softer as a small smile curled on his face and half-audibly said, "Actually, I was a little afraid of that too."

But he looked more encouraged and sauntered to the respective table.

Kahoko looked a bit puzzled at Tsuchiura's retreating back, which prompted Len's curiosity to ask, "What was he afraid of?"

Kahoko just shrugged her shoulders, "I'm not sure," she answered, "But maybe he's just a bit nervous. Remember, he was a General Education student for two years in high school."

"And so were you," said Len cynically. "Aren't you nervous?"

Kahoko went dumb for a second and then nodded with a blush. Len exhaled with exasperation.

"Let's just submit our forms quickly, okay?"

She smiled and went to join Kaji and Shimizu. Kaji greeted her cheerily and asked about what she and Shoko had been talking about. Len checked and double-checked his own audition form, listening to Kahoko's chatter with only half an ear, something about a new General Education third-year student with a bruised face that had gotten into a fight with some male school bullies.

**End of Chapter 05**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	6. Chapter 6

_This fanfic was started with the encouragements of a few good readers in the My-Neoromance forum and so I happily thanked them. Now that I'm posting in here, I'll return comments to your reviews._

_LV1982: Wow and wow, many thanks! The RyoxKaho story would the very, very last fanfic. Everything else is welcome to your own rampant speculation. The timeline in the entire epic story will take up the whole first year of Seisou University. This one about Len starts in April, when most Japanese universities start their year (I think...) so I'll let you guess how long it's going to be before I continue with next-guy-meets-next-girl story._

_OrangeBond: Really? Gosh, to tell you the truth, I haven't read a lot of other Corda fanfics around here (so sorry!). I started this late of last month and ideas had just been nicely pouring out. I was so worried that the characters might seem a bit OOC but thanks for the reassurance._

_VeronicaXT: Haha, you can all the romance in the world when it comes! Right now, I'm trying to get the main characters to crash into each other's lives. I hope this chapter isn't too emo for you, hehehehe!_

_Ldredolries: I'm working as fast as I can! I have other real-life and online-life I need to do. I also don't have home internet and so the cyber café is sucking my purse dry. Waaaaah… oh, and Kazuki will have a spot of limelight soon (Quote: "Oh man my car!") but his own story is still a pretty long away ahead._

_I welcome any ideas, guesswork, tips and tricks for this fanfic, as I don't own La Corda D'oro (my well of ideas ain't bottomless either). But whether or not I will actually use your ideas is by my own free will. Please do enjoy this next chapter!_

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**Il Suono D'oro**

**Chapter06: In A Swan's Heart**

It was late afternoon and classes had long been over. Outside, the light of the setting sun was turning the clouds ruby-red. How did the old nursery rhyme go? She would be glad for clear weather tomorrow, so she would not need to take the bus.

Kumiko gingerly touched the side of her left cheek that still stung a bit. There was a pulsing ache, along with everything else that throbbed on the left side of her body. But it was her cheek, the nasty scrape she had checked in the mirror of the girls' bathroom while she changed into her dark uniform. It needed a soft wash, a cool compress and a cotton gauze plaster, as the school nurse had told her.

But her bandaged, injured face was not what had gotten the students to give her some wide eyes and whisperings when she stood at the front of the new class to introduce herself. Her first lesson of what being in Seisou Academy was that since it was a music school, everybody has some pretty good ears. For gossip. Music, apparently, was too much a second nature for them to indulge in.

Them. Her and them. The Academy had divided the students into General Education and Music Department but Kumiko had already divided it into an easier separation.

Her and them.

It was for the best. This was a clean school with a clean status and clean bathrooms-, yes, she checked-, and students who minded their 'please's and 'thank you's. It was almost a complete world away from Soruku High. If her 'bad-girl' reputation had followed her from her old school, anybody who made himself or herself as her friend would be horrified, no matter if the stories were true or false. Especially now that she noticed how extra fast rumours and gossip floated around the place.

Kumiko felt a lump in her throat and a sting in her eyes. She had so much shameful things to hide.

Realizing that she was about to wallow in self-pity, she sternly gave herself a mental slap. She was no a drama queen. She was a dancing queen. Kumiko made a sweeping glance at her surroundings.

She was in one of the unused rooms at the very top floor of the main building of the school; above her would be the rooftop. The room looked like an abandoned gallery of sorts; abandoned as she noted the dusty floor and miscellaneous huge boxes, wooden crates, broken chairs and tables littering everywhere. It was as high as any classroom but it was also very long with large windows along one wall and the other wall was draped from end to end in protective cloth called Holland covers.

When Kumiko rose a bit of the cloth to see what it covered, thinking it was a mural or an extra-extra large painting, she was surprised to see her own face staring back at her.

Mirrors. The unused gallery had a long wall of floor to ceiling mirrors.

Upon catching her reflection, inquisitiveness prompted Kumiko to pull aside a bit more of the covers until it became a sort of drape. Out of sheer vanity, she raised both her arms in to a curve over her head, checking her position in _en haut_. She lifted one leg to the retire' position, the toe pointing to her other leg's kneecap, before slowly raising that leg out to waist level at her side _a la hauteur_.

She even made a couple of rough _fouette en tournant_, a full 360 degrees on one foot by kicking the other leg into a spinning momentum and ended with still standing on that foot. Too bad she did not have her practice shoes with her.

She was not ignorant of its use. This was after all, a music school and she was in one of the older sections of the school. The gallery was probably been used by ensemble group used the mirrors to observe themselves as a team while they played and practiced. Why it was no longer in use, Kumiko speculated that the natural light was not as good as in the more modern galleries in the music department building. It would probably cost a fortune in electricity bills, seeing how many light fixtures there were on the ceiling.

In another context, the room also reminded her of Miss Miya's dance rooms. It felt so familiar to be there, behind closed doors despite the broken furniture and stale-stuffy air. Kumiko felt like she was in no hurry to go anywhere but just do her homework exercises on the windowsill, catching up on the syllabus.

She had opened the window just a little bit for some air. Sitting on the windowsill of one of the large window, she looked out into the main courtyard of the school, with its faerie statue in the middle. A few stranglers were leaving through the front gate, some in GE uniforms, some in music school uniforms, some in sports activities uniforms and a teacher or two as well with their arms laden with file folders.

She should really get back home herself.

Fate must have read her mind because no sooner than she finished that thought, her Nokia cellphone rang in her pocket. Kumiko checked the caller ID on the screen and felt her melancholy dissolve for a bit.

"Hello Ayumu," said Kumiko softly, still immersed in her solitary peace.

"KUUMMIIIIIIEEKOOOOO!!" screamed the caller, loud enough to jar her eardrums.

Ayumu Kininobu, a freshman, was one of Kumiko's good friends she had left behind at Soruku High, though not because of her boisterous personality. Her habit was to do anything with a song and everything with a bang, which was why Kumiko had an animated picture of a lit bomb as a caller ID picture, just for fair warning.

"Yes, I think I heard you, Ayumu," said Kumiko, holding the phone at an arm's length to allow her ear to recover for a bit.

"Well? How was your first day?"

"Well, it was-"

"Oh, pish-posh! You can tell us all about it tonight."

Kumiko felt silent, "Us?"

"Yeah, we're all here! Where are you? Aren't you coming?" cried Ayumu.

"Err, tonight?"

"Honestly, do you have to repeat everything I say? We're at the studio already."

"Hold on, didn't Miss Miya said that class was cancelled tonight?" asked Kumiko.

"Yeah, but since when did that stop us? She left the key with her landlord but I've asked and he said yes! So are you coming or what?" Ayumu sounded almost pleading.

The 'us' that Ayumu meant would be the other ballet dancers of Jones's School of Ballet, an after-school-cum-weekend class which Kumiko attended ever since she was thirteen years old and that was where she met Ayumu. And when Ayumu put 'us' in the same context as 'tonight', that could only meant the chosen team.

The chosen five-member team to represent Miss Miya's school.

"So?" demanded Ayumu.

Kumiko sighed. "Err, not tonight Ayumu."

"Huh? How come? Kumiko, I thought you'd be more excited. Usually _you're_ the one making all the phone calls and annoying all of us."

"Hey, c'mon. I don't do that," joked Kumiko, but Ayumu sounded like she just warmed up to something.

"You do! You nagged and shoved the twins and Asuka-, even me!-, into practicing almost every night."

"Not every night," said Kumiko, though she knew she was contradicting herself.

"_Every night_, Miss-Nagging-Audition-Is-In-Two-Weeks! So now all four of us are confirmed coming in for tonight and don't tell me _you're_ going to be late one."

Kumiko laughed, "A first, isn't it, huh?"

"Miharu and Hikaru told me that they really want to know what Seisou Academy is like."

Suppressing a groan, Kumiko tried to think of a good reason. A reason she could tell convincingly. If she told Ayumu, of all people, that she was feeling sore for most on the left side of her body, she would definitely inquire and pry using every technique asking why. What can she say? The truth?

Oh, it all happened so fast this morning. I half-jumped off a pedestrian bridge and ran into a freeway right in front of an oncoming car to grab two kittens and two bags of drugs before sliding hard to stop on my shoulder and hip.

She patted the gauze bandage on her cheek. Yeah, right!

"I'm a little tired from moving, that's all," said Kumiko, quietly. "I still need to unpack my boxes in my new place. And Seisou's pretty advanced in the syllabus, I need to catch up."

Ayumu made an "Oh," and in a soft voice, what was more.

Kumiko continued, "It's my third year after all. I need to think about my future and all that stuff."

"Hah! That's easy. You were _born_ to be a ballerina."

_Perhaps_. "Perhaps."

"Huh? What did you say?" asked a confused Ayumu.

"Nothing," said Kumiko quickly. "Listen, why don't you all try-," she rummaged her bag for that thick illustrated book in plastic binding, "- the _danse des cygnes_ in the second act? You can do it together as a team."

"Dance of the Swans? Hold on for a minute." There was a sound of rustling paper from the cellphone. Kumiko could almost see her friend fumble about for the same kind of book. "Yeah, I see it. But didn't we perfected it last week?"

The two of them continued to discuss steps, routines and sections of the Acts about the upcoming performance. Sitting cross-legged on the floor with the open book on her lap, Kumiko directed Ayumu on some of the difficulties, some parts of which she had to leave out, as she could not express them verbally.

The book she held was a choreography report given to the team by Miss Miya; each one of them has a copy. It was an illustrated sequence of steps and movement as dictated by the Tokyo Association of Culture and Dance, of which the Jones's ballet school was a long-time member. Every few years or so, the Association would gather representatives of the schools to audition themselves and be included into a sequence of classical ballet works.

This year, the Association was going to showcase three complete ballet made by the great musician Tchaikovsky; Swan Lake would be the first semi-professional recital to be performed in mid-June, less than 3 months away.

Swan Lake was also a secret dream of Kumiko's.

"I think I got all that," mumbled Ayumu. There was some scratching of a pencil, committing some notes to paper.

"Okay then," said Kumiko. Noticing the gathering darkness in the gallery, she checked her watch. It was becoming quite late. "We'll stop here? I got to get back to my new home,"

"Mm-hmmm, alright. Hey, if you change your mind about tonight, we'll be around until midnight, okay?" said Ayumu.

"Alright, bye,"

"Bye-bye."

Her friend did not know it as Kumiko did not say, but she had already changed her mind. She really wanted to go to the dance studio that night. Unfortunately, her sore body was in protest. Better not risk injuring herself. Still, talking to a familiar sound, a familiar friend, made wonders for the solitary spirit. Especially when that friend grew up on the same side of the street as Kumiko did, there were just a few things they both understood. Just... things.

"What are you doing here?" said a new voice.

Startled, Kumiko opened her eyes. She did not remember closing them. She looked up from where she had rested her head against the windowsill and saw a person, a man in a long white coat and light lavender-tinted hair, looking in from at the door of the room. She had never seen him in any of her classes that day, but she suspected that the man might be a teacher.

A teacher who had caught her off guard.

"Umm, I..." Awkwardly, she stood up, "Just resting, sir."

"Resting?" The teacher raised a questioning eyebrow. Noticing the slew of papers that surrounded her, papers and notes, Kumiko had spread out during her phone conversation with Ayumu.

"An-and doing my homework," Kumiko hastily added. God, she could have bitten her lip from that stutter.

"I see."

She suddenly got the feeling that she really, really should not be in the abandoned gallery. Kumiko hastily gathered her things. She took a glimpse and saw the teacher stare at the slightly open window.

"This room is closed and off-limits to students," said the teacher. "If you wanted to indulge in the view of the courtyard, you should sit at the roof upstairs."

Kumiko mentally rolled her eyes. "It was too windy," she replied.

"Well then, you better go home. That's why they're called homework."

Oh gee, what a funny man. Haha, hoho, oh-my-ribs funny. Kumiko zipped her bag shut and wore it on her back. She checked her things, noting that nothing else was amiss and grabbed for her bicycle helmet on the windowsill and her pair of inline skates propped against the wall.

"Yes, sir."

She made straight for the door without looking at him. He let her pass him and slipped into the empty corridor quietly. Behind her, she heard the teacher closed the door and a slick clicking sound indicating that the lock had been turned.

Thank goodness, it was only a teacher who had caught her off guard.

It really was getting very dark. The shadows were making dark corners everywhere she turned. Kumiko walked down the many flights of stairs to the ground floor. She did not know if she could or could not skate within the school compound. That morning, she had taken off her skates and put on her normal shoes before she pass through the front gates.

Seeing at how late it was, how the sky was beginning to tinge dark purple, Kumiko switched her footwear anyway at the bottom of the stairs.

She pushed herself forward and within minutes, she was encircling around the weird faerie statue in the center courtyard. She loved to skate almost as much as she loved to dance. It gave her the feeling of being in a constant _glissade_. This way, she does not need to worry about technique or performance. Just running over obstacles and dodging traffic. At that last though, an image of a brown minivan intruded. Kumiko grinned and inwardly scolded herself to stop fooling around.

But once she got toward the front gate, it swung hard forward to clanged shut at her face, nearly missing her nose by inches. At the shaken surprise, Kumiko looked around and saw a tall guy in dark GE uniform appear on the other side of the closed gate. When she saw his wolfish grin, she immediately recognized who he was. A sound broke from behind her was suspicious laugh. She turned and found another guy in GE uniform approaching her.

Those were the two bullies she had confronted before.

"Well now, well now," said the guy approaching her.

He wore a dark scarf, same as hers. The other guy, the one entering into the compound from the iron gates, was wearing a red scarf; a junior. She skated backwards, putting some distance between herself and the-red-scarf. They both had identical light brown hair and brown eyes, almost twin-like. Kumiko had suspected they might be brothers. Said same faces also bore really ugly confident grins. Dangerous grins.

"Well now, well now," repeated the older guy, as if it were a mantra. "Well now, well now."

Kumiko narrowed her gaze. "_Well_ now? Does that mean you've recovered from your headache?"

The older guy really got to work on his poker face. He immediately looked nettled, especially when he saw Kumiko turned her sight to the temple of his head where she had struck her helmet. Hard.

"New girl thinks she's so tough," he sneered. "Sooo tough,"

"Yes, I suppose I am," Kumiko gave him her most insulting smile. "That I must have hit you so hard, you had to repeat your own words twice."

The guy behind her laughed, but was quickly smothered into a cough when the older guy hissed menacingly. Kumiko decided not to waste time playing tête-à-tête. She made a turned and skated towards the gate. But the-red-scarf was blocking where the two sides of the iron gate meet. The gates swung inward the courtyard; if it had swung outwards, she could give a nice kick and would have easily dislodge it from the-red-scarf's grip.

"What do you want?" asked Kumiko. "If it was about the cat you want to continue toying with, I'm afraid I can't help you there."

"Oh, it's not about the stupid cat," the older guy, cracking his knuckles.

If the knocked-out stammering genius thought to scare her by playing fisticuffs melody, Kumiko was only afraid of falling asleep. She was not afraid of him throwing punches at her either. After all, she can move even faster on her skates, a point she rather not prove for his sake.

"What the hell do you want?" she nearly shouted with impatience.

"Just a little talk," he slurred like a drunkard, "About how you made a mark on my record." He ended his words with a tinge of vehemence.

Kumiko gritted her teeth, "Gee, you mean on your discipline record? Or your class-clown record? Because I thought the latter could really get you into the stupidity college."

Her words succeeded in jarring a no-longer-amused look.

When she had taken a self-tour around the school that morning, namely to the nurse's office, Kumiko had come across the two bullies swinging a fat cat by the hind legs. Not jokingly juvenile swinging, but seriously torturously scary swinging.

The poor cat notwithstanding, it was the way a small first-year student was crying and pleading for the older guy to stop. The first year was being held fast on the spot by the-red-scarf brother and was made to watch the older guy play merry-go-sick with the cat, laughing and threatening to hit the creature to a tree or let go at full force.

Of course she stepped in. It was just her stupid instinctive nature. But during the exchange, both cat and the kid managed to get away and the latter had found a pretty serious looking teacher. Noting the bruise on Kumiko's cheek, that teacher immediately turned to the older guy, despite the fact that it was he that had fallen and groaning his brains out.

"I do apologize," Kumiko continued with sarcasm, "And I feel the pain of your rejected university application."

Instead of turning even more purple, as she had expected most bullies would be, the older guy just turned smug. Kumiko blinked and waited; mindful of the-red-scarf who still kept the gates close behind her.

"You have no idea who you're dealing with, you sour-puss," growled the older guy.

When she said nothing, he spoke again, "Me and my brother are the star reporters of the Seisou Academy News. If anybody can dig up dirt, it's us."

The-red-scarf snickered like a hyena. Kumiko thought that it should like he had bad gas in his end system.

"So?"

"So? So we're just going to give you a fair warning, missy," His was as sharp as knives, "Everybody's got dirty little secrets."

"I don't have any," she said without thinking. Damn. Kumiko managed to keep her face flat of emotions but the older guy already looked like a swollen bull that had sighted a red cape.

"Oh, really? Don't you? Well now," he slurred, "Well now, well now."

"Is that all? Are you done yet?" Kumiko gripped her fists, nails digging into her palm.

"Oh, well now. I think we are."

"Good."

Kumiko turned back to the gates. She would kick the-red-scarf if she had too. But the-red-scarf politely moved out of the way so that satisfaction was refused from her. He even opened the gate with all manners of an elite gentleman and made to bow as junior student to senior. But as she passed him, the-red-scarf whispered menacingly.

"Soruku High, huh?" His slur was every bit as wet and ugly as his brother's. "See you later, ghetto bitch."

At his words, every part of her physical strength screamed to knock the man's teeth to the ground. But her mental strength was too weak to do the deed. Kumiko summoned control and composure to will herself to ignore the bullies and skated out of the school. She moved slowly, as if she was underwater, passing the street greenery.

It was rare for her to see street greenery, decorative pines that not just grow on the street but actually flourishing. In fact, Seisou Academy itself seemed to have a great abundance of healthy plants. Clean, living, green plants with pretty flowers. God, why the hell was she thinking about _plant?_

Kumiko felt hot tears growing in her eyes, made worse by the sick oily feeling in her stomach. Hold on, be steady, control and composure, she whispered to herself. She reminded herself why she had chosen Seisou Academy, specifically Seisou Academy. As her new place. Her last year before university.

"Hmm-mmm-mmm," she hummed softly to herself. She finally found a tune, the melody she had found that day. Someone had played such a nice song in the music department. She had heard it and had thought that it was very nice. Kumiko hummed the tune again and felt a little better. The wind of her skating curled and whipped her skirt. Gentle grinding sound emitted from the wheels rolling under her feet on the sidewalk.

No matter what the bullies have gotten out of her, no matter what dirt or fake dirt they might dig up, it could not be any worse that the worse she kept hidden. Tightly hidden. The thought gave her comfort as she exhaled her frustration.

Most of all, these bullies do not use wild dogs. Kumiko told herself that that one fact was the best. And she had better buck up. She was going home. And tomorrow night, she could join Ayumu and the others for practice.

That still did not stop the flow of tears from her eyes.

Head hung low, so deep was her mind in her thoughts, in her inner therapeutic humming, that she did not realized that she was rapidly closing distance to someone in front of her without slowing or looking. That was, not until she literally crashed into that person in a sudden cloud of scattered paper and fallen limbs.

"Heeeeey!" cried someone with a start.

Kumiko fell to the ground for the second time that day while on her skates. Oh God, how stupid. She felt like hazard to society everywhere she turned. And a fool to boot. She tried to get up, to apologize to the person she crashed into and was shocked to behold a familiar face. And beside him stood a girl with long red hair.

**End of Chapter 06**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Il Suono D'oro**

**Chapter07: Adagio Overturn**

"Len!" cried the red-haired girl.

There was no mistaking who it was that she bumped into, not with the reddish twilight glow of the sky bathing his moody features. Before, it was the red colour of the rising sun. And he had been standing, not sprawled down on his side just as she was at that moment. And...

"You idiot!"

And that same cool voice that went along with his annoyed face. Come to think of it, Kumiko remembered that he was annoyed with her the first time she saw him as well. When he saw her, he blinked a few times and then he scowled. Kumiko realized that she was staring. Rudely. Her cheeks started to heat up.

Dammit! "Sorry. Sorry, please excuse me," she uttered hoarsely.

"Are you blind? That was dangerous of you," said the fallen man scornfully.

Quickly turning her head away, she forced herself to get up, get her feet under her and get up. Her eyes still felt watery, her emotions were still unsettled from the bullies' threat. As she moved, she felt a heavy tear slide down her cheek to her chin. Kumiko quickly faked a cough to cover her sniff. She would be damned if she let strangers see her looking weak.

If that blue-haired man had noticed her crying, she would high-tail out of their sight no matter how impolite it would present her. She would high-tail out of there regardless.

But as she tried to push herself up, a wave of lightheadedness struck her. She felt it start in her head and then it slowly spread down to her arms that were supporting her upper body, making them feel wobbly. A pressure of some sort was pushing her down, a moving rippling pressure. Her vision clouded, followed by a distant ringing in her ears.

Panic attack? Kumiko fought to clear her mind from the nausea. She did not think her fall that that bad. So what was this feeling?

"Hey? Are you alright?"

The ringing in her ears slowly became clearer and she realized that the red-haired girl had uttered the question towards her. Kumiko blinked her cloudy vision away and looked up. The girl was bending over her with a concerned face. Her friend, the guy Kumiko had knocked over, was busy gathering the fallen books and papers around him. He was watching them as he picked up the papers; his mouth was a stony stern line.

Kumiko realized that she had fallen on top of some of the papers.

"Aah, I-er... Please let me help you," said Kumiko.

She carefully maneuvered her body not to damage the notes and got up on her knees. As she started to gather them, the man spoke waspishly.

"Don't bother. We can do it ourselves, thank you very much,"

Kumiko thought of giving a comeback reply but her head was still spinning somewhat fast.

"I just want to help. I'm really sorry. Just let me help you," she said quietly without looking at either one of them.

The girl was carrying a stack of books. She gently placed them on the ground and dropped down beside her; picking up the papers as well. The man frowned at her doing the menial task.

"Kahoko, be careful of your fingers," he said, but the girl returned to him a smile.

"It'll be faster if we all pick them up," she said, "And we welcome your help, miss."

"She'll get them in disorder. It'll be a pain to restack them,"

"Well, then. Just make sure of the page numbers, alright, miss?" She pointed to the bottom right corners of the notes.

The girl had a nice smile. "Yes, I see. I'm sorry I caused you both some trouble. I wasn't looking as I was supposed to," Kumiko humped, "It should be my right to help you undo my damage."

The girl gave her a surprised stare but the man simply ignored her. "I agree," said the man with such finality, Kumiko suspected he spoke just to have the last say.

There seemed to be a lot of papers; most of them were music notes and written notes that had been dislodged from a big plastic file. Kumiko patted her papers into its neat rectangular pile and passed them bit by bit to the girl, mentioning places where the pages were missing their numbers. The girl took them appreciatively, separated them into two stacks and gave them both to the guy.

"Here you go, all back in order,"

"My compositions had some dirt in them," he grumbled, fingering a smudge.

Kumiko found the rejoinder she had been waiting for, "Dirty music? Gee, you better clean them before somebody hears it."

She did not look to see if her smirking comment had any effect on the ice-man, nor did he said anything, but the girl's spontaneous giggle supplied enough imagination. Brushing off her hands on the sleeves of her uniform, Kumiko deem the deed as done. She got up on her skates, slowly this time, in case the thing that made her nauseous struck her again.

The two got up as well; the girl took back the books she had left on the ground. As she felt the comings of an uncomfortable silence, Kumiko bent her head apologetically and beg pardon for leave.

"Oh, it's alright, don't worry. There was nothing seriously hurt. Right, Len?" said the girl.

"True. But I prefer that you would not let it happen again. Again," said the man. There was a hidden meaning in his sentence, but Kumiko could not tell whether he meant that he remembered her from that morning or if it was something else.

"Yes, I'll be more careful. Thank you," said Kumiko.

At her words, she turned to the side and passed them away. In truth, she was thankful that she had crashed into those two. It was a bit discourteous, even if it was accidental, but in keeping her hands busy, as simple as make sure of the page numbers, managed to pry her away from her previous downhearted state. Though the echoes of that despair she still felt within her, Kumiko decided that she should not worry on things she could not predict.

As long as she was confident that her secrets were safe, she was prepared for anything. And again, school bullies did not use wild dogs.

Wild dogs. Kumiko was suddenly reminded of the packs that roamed the streets close to where she lived. She was not sure if now was one of their moving hours, preying on rubbish and rats, but she decided that some chances should not be toyed with. Ahead of her was a sheltered bus stop. She stopped in front of the plastic booth sign and checked the routes. Seeing that one of the buses did pass through her new neighbourhood, she noted the number and sat on the bench.

Only then did she realize how tired she was. Under the aches she collected that day was a sleepy fog of weariness. Skating may allowed her to move faster but it was also an exercise regime. Of course. If Kumiko had the time, she would practice six hours a day, just as the professionals does.

She sighed and bent over to take off her skates. There had been a bit of a sting on her left ankle, but moreover, she just did not want to climb up the narrow bus steps on 8 wheels. Still, she massaged her ankle, rubbing the hollow behind the bone to ease the sting away.

From the corner of her eye, she spotted someone walking towards the bus stop shelter. It was the red-haired girl and her stack of books with the guy who was with her. The two girls both blinked in surprise at each other when they both caught gazes at the same time. The girl smiled first and Kumiko realized that she was staring again. But unlike the time with that blue-haired man, it did not feel uncomfortable and she easily returned the smile.

"So. You're both waiting for the bus too?" asked Kumiko. She turned to her friend, who was right behind her but he was looking out into the street with his own thick file of papers.

"Um-hmm," she nodded, "We have a few things to return to the public library."

Kumiko noted the books in her arms, "I see,"

As the girl placed the stack of books between them, Kumiko also noted that the girl was watching her feet, which still wore only one skate.

"Oh, I didn't ask," start the girl, "Did you injure yourself? You looked like you've crashed pretty hard."

"Heh. There's nothing pretty about crashing into people, but this is just something from before, that's all."

"Before? You fell down before and hurt your ankle?"

"Yeah, but it's not a big deal," said Kumiko with a please-don't-mind-it look.

She glimpsed at the guy but he just sat down on the bench without uttering a single word. Was he still mad at her or was he always like that? Quiet a contrast to his girl friend.

Though the girl looked like she was ready for a game of small talk, Kumiko really just wanted to sit back in silence for a minute. The bus shelter was quiet; there was hardly any traffic on the road. A soft natural breeze blew gently around the area.

She returned to her skates and took the other off. Reaching into her bag, she took out a plastic bag wrapped package, where she kept her normal shoes and put them on. After wrapping her own skates in the plastic, she leaned against the bench's backrest and sighed loudly, half-closing her eyes and hoped that the girl would take the hint.

Luckily for Kumiko, the girl seemed considerate to enjoy the peace and proceeded to take one book from her stack and read it. Unluckily for Kumiko, her peaceful silence lasted only five minutes.

Her damn cellphone rang.

Irritated, Kumiko received the call automatically. She should have looked first before she pressed the answering button.

"Hello?"

"KUUUUMMIIIEKKOOOOOO, HEEEEELLPP!!"

Maybe she ought to change Ayumu's called ID picture into an animated loudspeaker. With a bomb. When she mentioned that fact to her friend on the phone, Ayumu brushed off the remark and gave an even more desperate pleading voice.

"I really need your help, please Kumiko! Please? Pretty please?" said Ayumu loudly.

Kumiko saw that the girl beside her gave a somewhat curious glance at the moment of the cellphone's scream. Slightly embarrassed, she gave the girl a half-joking gesture and quickly reduced the volume.

"What is it Ayumu? Something serious?"

"Umm, not really?"

"Then what is it? Is it the others?"

"No, no, no, just something that's really bothering me,"

"Then _what is it?_"

"Are you completely sure you're not coming to the studio tonight? We're all still waiting in here."

Kumiko made a mental note to strangle her ballet companion. "Yes, I'm not coming,"

"Oh," said Ayumu dispiritedly.

Kumiko sighed, "Is there anything I can help, _relevantly?_"

"I need music,"

"Wh-what?"

"Can you hum a tune for me?"

Kumiko made a mental note to strangle her ballet companion, _slowly_. "There should be a whole collection of CDs in the closet next to the piano. Can't you just pick one?"

"That's the thing, I can't."

"Why?"

"You see," There was a familiar wood creaking sound. Ayumu must have opened the CD closet. "Since you're not coming, we decided to try some freestyle dances for the auditions."

"Freestyle, huh?" Kumiko sat thoughtful for a second.

The ballet audition for the recital would be in two weeks. There were two sets; one was a group audition, of which the representing teams would perform a section of the performance as illustrated in the choreography. This would determine if they were good enough perform the group performances. The other audition was freestyle of individual dancers based on the chosen music. Individual audition would determine the dancers who had the skills and stamina to execute the lead roles.

Kumiko smirked, "I don't see why not. You got a lot of creativity between the four of you,"

"Creativity, we have. Music, we also have, but too much of it," pouted Ayumu.

"Too much is never enough in music, my dear," said Kumiko, but then she had an irritating thought, "Hey, you don't expect _me_ to pick one out for _you?_"

"Yes!"

"I can't dictate your steps-,"

"No, no, no, just pick out something for me from Miss Miya's CD collection. We can make our own choreography just fine, no problem," Ayumu sighed, "It's just that... you know how I dance better than I do. I always do it freely and I never pay attention to my own steps since you're always correcting me."

"Yeah, that's true," Kumiko chuckled softly. "So... you just don't know which music that fits you, right?"

"Pleeeeeeeeease help me," begged Ayumu.

In the background, there were sounds of plastic cases being carelessly piled on top of each other. Kumiko hoped that Ayumu remembered to put the CDs back into the closet by the end of practice. But... what could she do from here? She racked her memories of the CD closet. There were all kinds of music pieces, classical, jazz and modern; from the timeless familiar ones to the dynamic exotic songs.

She looked around for inspiration and spotted the book being read in the red-haired girl's hand. The title on the cover was 'Adagio'. Kumiko remembered what Miss Miya said something about _adagios_ earlier that day. Ballet depended a lot on music so it was not surprising that they shared many similar terminologies. She looked over the girl's shoulder and noted the names of the composers.

Kumiko gingerly tapped a finger on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, but may I borrow this for a moment?"

The girl gave her a shy grin but she did not look all that astonished. If Kumiko was given to the habit of speculation, she would have thought that the red-haired girl had been listening in on her. She inwardly groaned but felt a bit grateful when she did not protest but simply gave a wondering look.

Kumiko rested her cellphone on her shoulder and flipped through the pages with careful quick flips. Occasionally she found a name or a picture, but none of the scores meant much to her. Index, index, index. When she reached a list of names that looked familiar, she called to Ayumu and explained her idea.

"You want me to practice _adagios?_" she sounded insulted.

"Aww, just give it a try, okay? Since when was the last time you tried slow music?"

"I don't remember."

"And neither did I. And I bet not even the others remembered you doing it either. There you go. Something new for you to try out before I get you tomorrow."

Before Ayumu could spout another why-I-don't-think-I-can-do-it-without-you-directing-me, Kumiko gave her the list of names she knew that were included in the studio's CD closet.

"Try something Bach or Beethoven first, okay?"

"Can you specifically hum a tune for me?"

"No, look through the closet," said Kumiko flatly. "And clean up afterwards. See you tomorrow, Ayumu."

She ended call and exhaled louder than she intended. A giggle rose from beside Kumiko and she blushed as she returned the music book to the red-haired girl in all politeness.

"I'm sorry to disturb your reading. Please take it back,"

"Thank you. I didn't mind it really," she said, taking the book back and placing it on the stack, "Were you helping out a friend?"

An image of Ayumu trying to discipline herself to follow slow-tempo music made Kumiko grinned. "Actually, not really. I'm just trying to get her busy."

The girl looked surprised. Before she could ask Kumiko explained, "First, she'll be rummaging through the names of the composers I've given her, trying to figure out which one she liked. That's going to take her some time. Hopefully, she won't call me for a while."

"Oh! I get the feeling," the girl chuckled. Then she asked, "So your friend is a music student of Seisou?"

"Hmm?" Kumiko realized that the girl had noticed her GE uniform, "Aah, no, not really. We share something relating to music but we're not music students."

"That's good," said the girl. Her face then turned soft, "Music should always be enjoyed in everything."

She said it in such a misty voice that Kumiko wondered what the girl was actually thinking at that moment. Then a deep voice spoke from behind her that made Kumiko realize that she had completely forgotten the blue-haired man who was with her.

"The bus is coming," he said. He sounded immensely bored.

True enough; a rumbling large vehicle slowly approached them from the corner with large lit headlights. It stopped at the shelter with a mechanical gasp and the doors flipped open to admit in passengers and dropped off a few. The couple gathered their things; files and books. The man immediately took off into the bus but the girl turned toward Kumiko, who was still sitting on the bench. Kumiko just waved and shook her head. The bus number indicated that it was not the one she was waiting for.

"Okay then," said the girl, "By the way; I'm Kahoko Hino from first-year Seisou University."

"Seisou University?" wondered Kumiko, "Oh, if you're a music student from that university, then you must be my senior,"

"Maybe true. And you are?"

"Umm-mmm," Kumiko decided that there was no harm in introducing herself. The crux of the fact was that if this girl goes to the University, she would not be around in the Academy or listen to whatever gossip-news those two bullies might bring up.

"I'm Kumiko Yukigawa, third year General Education. It was nice to meet you,"

The girl, Kahoko, beamed warmly, "It was nice meeting you too. I hope my book helped your friend."

"Heh," Kumiko grinned and waved, "I was more thankful that your book helped _me_ first,"

The girl left with a laugh. As she watched the bus rolled away from the bus stop shelter, Kumiko felt a sense of friendly calm. The kind of calm she knew whenever she and Miss Miya had parted on a happy note. There was just something about Kahoko Hino that just seemed to make Kumiko express herself more freely. Instead of her plan of always being guarded.

Her and them.

As compared to the curious, whispering Academy students who had approached her with morbid speculative curiosities-, "Did you really beat up two GE guys this morning?"-, Kumiko found that talking with that girl she nearly crashed into-, granted, she literally _did_ crashed into her friend-, she was much friendlier.

Her and them.

Oh, who was she kidding? Just as dancers do not dance alone, Kumiko was not, in a few aspects, a lonely solitary creature. Just when the mood, and the circumstances, struck her. She touched the side of her cheek where the tear used to flow, not an hour ago. Her finger traced the memory of the trail and she herself felt a bit odd to find that the trail ended in a corner of a smile.

* * *

Inside the moving bus, Len looked out at the window and watched as the bus rolled on further away from the bus shelter, away from the sitting GE skater girl.

"She was nice, don't you think so Len?" asked Kahoko.

"Hmm-mm," he grunted, positioning his file properly.

There was not much passengers on the bus; Kahoko had placed the library books on the seat next to her but Len preferred to keep his large file of notes on his lap.

"I don't remember any GE students who could skate last year. Maybe she transferred into Seisou?" asked Kahoko.

"More likely she only recently thought she could learn to skate. And if she could not skate well, she shouldn't," said Len.

Kahoko went blank for a moment, before she simply shook her head at his comment, "Well, let's hope that the next time we bump into her-,"

"I rather don't," Len interrupted her but Kahoko ignored him.

"-bump into her, she probably skate better. Or would be in different shoes."

Skates or not, that girl was distinctly disturbing. Disturbing as in Len noted how she had tried to hide her face from his when she first made him fall down. An earlier more disturbing aspect was how she stared at him with her wide eyes. He did not mind people staring at him as they always often do, seeing that he was _the_ Len Tsukimori.

But her green eyes... he would bet his violin strings that they were not in awe by his person. Her eyes held secrets in a deep pool.

Len thought he saw something of her thoughts flash in them, something rolling and gathering like a suppressed storm of emotions. Yet, when he witnessed her interaction with Kahoko, there was no sign whatsoever of that troubled waters. They were a dark green, like forest twilight.

Either he had imagined that distressed outlook, or that skater girl was an expert chameleon. Len decided to push her out of his thoughts. Most likely, he would not see her again. His practice and studies revolve much within the University. This route tonight was a detour to help Kahoko return a few things to the library before her double date with Tsuchiura and one of her old GE friends who had went on to another university and had met some new guy.

He looked though his music notes, checking on the ones that looked rumpled or dirty. After his fingers and his violin, his music notes were sacred to him. Len narrowed his eyes when he saw that one of them had a long stain on his ink-written bars. As he took it out to study it, an unknown sense of concern crept within him.

It was been a clear red evening, not a cloud in sight. Yet the stain on his music note was his own blue ink, distorted by what suspiciously looked to be a teardrop.

**End of Chapter 07**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	8. Chapter 8

_Sorry for the late update; had a temp job as a promoter at school. We now return to our regularly scheduled music. Btw, please do R&R so I can write better!_

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**Il Suono D'oro**

**Chapter08: Memories and Moonlight**

-Ten years ago...

_She fell into the dirt for the sixth time. There had to be another way, a better way to do it. Kumiko got upf from where she fell, groaning at the sight of long red lines on her small arms, where the sand grains scratched and cut her. Her father was going to have fits if he sees them. And Big Brother would be even more so. They were both so overprotective of her, especially at every little slips, bumps and fall. Granted, she was not supposed to be outside the house at such late afternoon. _

_It was just too dangerous to be at the rusty old playground. Alone, that is. _

_Nonetheless, she placed her right hand on the lower step of the monkey bars. It was just high enough for her to balance herself, or so she thought. How those ladies at the window did it again? Kumiko checked her feet in their dirty pink Minnie Mouse shoes. She stood on tiptoe, as high as she could and then raised her left leg to her waist level and pointed the toes to her kneecap. _

_Certain that she was able to stand one-legged straight, Kumiko hopped a little bit away from the monkey bars so she would not accidentally struck her feet against the metal, like on her first try. Her arms raised out on her sides, keeping her balance; she replayed in her mind the memory of those ladies in white leotards with weird fluffy skirts, spinning continuously so very fast on one leg._

_Kumiko wanted to do that too. But first she had to try to at least make _one_ perfect spin._

_Keeping her eyes on her feet, she twisted her hips and propelled her leg to swing her into a full circle. She managed to keep staying in one spot but like before, she could not stop neatly into her original position. Her arms went flaying, she covered her face as she lost her balance and fell to the dirt. Again. _

_There was a technique there somewhere. So far, Kumiko knew she got her feet right, witness her complete full turn. It was the stopping part that eluded her. At least her feet felt alright. That was when she realized that she had been looking at her feet all the time while spinning. She rubbed her head to remembered, also partially because she had sorely landed her head on that spot some 2 failed turns before._

_The spinning dance, it was more than just the feet were it not? The ladies she watched from the window of that big old warehouse did not keep checking their feet while they spun. They kept their head up and their arms spinning as well. It was not just a spin on the feet. It also included the whole body. _

_Intrigued by the revelation, Kumiko got up from the ground, dusted the sand off her oversized pants and brushed the sweat from her brows. She knew could get this spinning correctly and she was going to get it right before Dad or Big Bro caught her in the act. This time, she was going to remember to keep her head up._

_Just as before, she held on to the monkey bars for balance in standing before hopping a little away from it. She wiggled her toes in her shoe for a bit, rotated her shoulders, raising her arms... and held her head up high. _

_She spun herself into a circle._

_With her head up, she was able to better keep track of how her arms moved with her. She whipped it around, keeping them in proportioned to the momentum of her leg and keeping everything in one spot. At the end of her turn, she spread her arms out again and the act gave stability for her left leg to pull back into the knee-bend, raised position, just as she started._

_One complete spin, back to where she started. All done by keeping her head up._

_For a moment, Kumiko just stared at her raised knee. Her poise still felt good, her back felt straight; granted she had landed hard on the heel of her foot at some part and her toes must have pinched themselves somewhere but... she felt like she was ready to do another spin._

_Still on her one foot, she glanced smilingly at the sitting figure on the paint-worn bench not far from the where she stood next to the monkey bars. She smiled back at Kumiko; the young woman wore an old black denim jacket over her white leotard; she had folded her weird fluffy skirt in her small bag. _

"_Good. That's keeping your head up," said the woman, beaming. At least, that was what she thought that ballet lady said. Kumiko was still excited at her success; the endorphin rushing through her was making her ears ring._

All she had to do was keep her head up.

Kumiko closed her eyes, crossing her arms over her belly and softly hummed the music of her steps. The waves of the notes, in her memory and beneath her lips, washed over her body like a cascading wave. High. Low. Long. Short. The melody gave her a picture of the freestyle she had been planning for.

She opened her eyes and positioned herself to the starting pose; a few quick adjustments to the strings of her headphones of her MP3 player, clipped to the belt of her waist, so they would not get in the way of her arms. She started the music and was ready.

On cue, she carried herself across the floor in some leaps of _tour jete'_. She spun in mid air and landing lightly on feet and quickly bringing herself back into the air as fast as an eye blink, so it seemed as if she was flying on air instead of having the floor beneath her. When the music eventually turned slow and steady, she dropped gently to the ground and allowed her arms and fingers to play.

The trick was all in anticipating what the music would do next, how it would sing, and then moved from there. Kumiko had to keep ahead of the rhythm or otherwise she would loose the spirit of the song. Matching her body to the tempo, creating a character into the choreography.

The music she had chosen, a clarinet piece accompanied by a cello that she had found and recorded while secretly touring the music department that day, was both soft and steady. The cello was strength while the clarinet had played in beauty. Kumiko recognized it as an excerpt of Winter's _Concerto in E flat Major_. She thought it would have been the perfect music she could use for her audition, especially given that it was not originally a dancing music. All it needed was choreography and her.

And yet, something was still missing.

She continued to play herself through the tones and the notes, mindful of her motions and her interpretation of the piece. The music, she found no fault in it; she can follow and lead and play. She just was not sure if it was the right one for her to present in the audition. Reminding herself being of what she was, where she was from and how the judges would treat her and the rest of her team, these things were heavy on her mind.

She could not risk not winning that lead in the ballet. What was most important was to keep her head up high in every situation.

And her ears open.

Which, it was a very lucky thing that she had completed the music in the nick of time. As soon as she unplugged the headphones from her ears, she heard the lock on the door of the mirror gallery started to click and turn. Yikes!

In three seconds, she glided across the floor of the gallery on her soft shoes to where she had hidden her things behind an oversized wooden crate. Though she had planned for such emergency out-of-sight plan, she had not thought she would need to execute it so soon.

"So, this is the gallery huh?" asked a familiar male voice. Kumiko recognized it as the voice of that lavender-long-haired teacher in the large white coat. Sarcastically, she would applaud herself if she got caught by him again in little more than 24 hours.

"Yes, this one will do," said an unfamiliar voice, definitely male and it did not sound like a young boy either. Another teacher?

A slight cough, followed by a sneeze, "And I suppose, I'll have to clean up this whole place, right?" sniffed the teacher.

"Naturally," said the new voice, "Although you've made yourself a temp teacher, it does not exempt from the usual janitorial work,"

"Haha. I swear this school would be covered in rubbish after I leave again next year,"

"Ludicrous. The Academy's success is contributed to our discipline into keeping good maintenance."

Their footsteps were loud as the walked across the wooden floor. They sounded as if they were making a slow roundabout in the room. Almost too afraid to move, Kumiko gingerly gathered the scattered papers from the floor around her, the scribbling and drawings she had written during her dance planning, lest some wind ghost blew them into the men's sight.

"Has someone been in here before us? The dust on the floor have been disturbed," asked the new voice, "And those covers on the mirrors should still be concealing them,"

"Hm-mm? Must be because of that student I found in here,"

"A student?"

"Yeah, a GE girl. Just about yesterday. I caught her doing homework in here."

"Here? Was not the door always locked?"

"Umm, now that you've mentioned it, I had no idea how..." the teacher's voice faltered in confusion.

Kumiko resisted the urge to roll her eyes, in case it distracted her. Still she could not help thinking, _gee, maybe because the locks on the door were so old-fashioned, a cliché of a hairpin could open it_. But then she tensed. Would they start investigating around in the room?

"In any case, this place needs to be properly restored. The University students would start coming in the afternoon, sometime on the day after tomorrow."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. New locks, a good sweep, some dusting, get rid of all the old crates and furniture and that grand piano over there some fine-tuning?"

"I'm assured to know that both mine and Mr. Kamiya's expectations is understood by you,"

"Heh. I do try not to disappoint," grumbled the teacher, "Kamiya ought to contribute at least something for this school, you think? The project sound great and all but the lighting bills alone are bordering a fine line on the department's budget here."

"Kamiya had assured me that he had supplied some new equipment for which, at the end of the project, they will be donated completely to the music department. I have seen them and I would say, even you would be amiable to his contribution."

"Let me rant my own judgment, Kira."

"As you wish, Kanazawa."

More footsteps but to her relief, they were going further away from her. She waited with baited breath as the squeaky door swung closed and the lock was turned. Exhaling slowly, she when still for a bit more, in case the men returned to check on something else. After a few moments, her confidence grew and slowly got up from behind the crate. The gallery was as empty as it should, except for her presence.

She thanked the gods she had not been discovered. Kumiko recognized the name Kira, as in maybe Akihiko Kira, the school's director. Who else would be commanding a teacher about fixing up an unused gallery? Gritting her teeth, she wondered what the scene might have played if she got caught by the big man of the school himself. Probably something of a drama, she would bet the soft ballet shoes she still had on.

Better not take risks. She unwound the ribbons of her shoes and put on her normal walking ones. As her hands worked, she made a small smirk to herself. If this gallery was going to be used, then she would need another solitary practice space. The roof perhaps? It would have to be when she would be certain that there would be no one around. Though she liked to perform, Kumiko preferred that no one sees her practice.

Often in practice, she was able to experiment with steps and tricks embedded with feelings and emotions that were somewhat revealing when she danced, when she was free from control and composure. It would be truly embarrassing if someone caught her like that. Not even to Miss Miya would she allow that liberty.

After putting on her body pads, she grabbed her bag and her skates. Listening closely to the door, she heard no sound and deemed the hallway outside was empty. From her hair, she took out a hairpin and easily picked it open. It was a trick she learned back at home, when her Big Brother always locked the house and kept her indoors because the neighbourhood was just not safe.

Not that much had changed in the last ten years.

Once she got herself outside, Kumiko quickly picked the lock close again, for good security, and took off for the staircase.

* * *

"Why didn't you tell me you were returning library books with Len?" asked Kaji with a pout.

Kahoko paused for a moment at his question and then grinned uncertainly, "Oh umm," she began, "Well, Len and I... we're both violinists! And so I mentioned that I had some books that would be pretty good for violins but they were becoming expired. The library's due date I mean, not the book getting expired, er… and then he, well, actually had some of his own books and he was on his way back to the university..."

Len felt the urge to simply droll out sarcastically that he was right behind them and he certainly was not playing invisible. He doubted that Kaji was purposely trying to insert any kind of connotation in his question. But bless the girl, she was still trying to get used to the metaphorical flag of peace the guys had mounted around Tsuchiura, as he possessed Kahoko's own signature flag on his mast.

This, in retrospect, had embarrassingly revealed a lot about themselves in their pursuit of her in the past. As Hihara had said, they were nuts over her to the point of confusion.

It was Friday night, four days since they all had submitted their forms at the University. It was also the first night of the audition. Spaced out along the weekend days and all held in Seisou Academy to accommodate the schedule of third-year high school students, Len, Kahoko and Kaji were going for their string instruments audition. They had planned to meet Shimizu at the front entrance of the main building, where they were all walking towards at the moment.

Kaji must have noticed he had accidentally discomposed her and shrugged his hands, "Jeez, Kahoko, you don't need to explain a lecture. I just needed to know which books you had taken out," he raked his hand through his hair with a wheeze, "Major Ensemble course, wasn't it? Mr. Nakamura's books were always taken out."

Blinking, Kahoko then gave a wide grin. She gave him a description of the textbooks she had returned and a short summary of each of the topics. Kaji himself seemed to be listening intently and offered suggestions in comparisons of other books he had checked out in lieu of any other book. However, there were times when Len noticed that his gaze made quick darting glances at Tsuchiura, walking alongside on Kahoko's left.

Surprisingly, Tsuchiura was busy buried in his own study papers in an almost Shimizu-like manner, despite the night of their surroundings, broken in a few white florescent glows coming from the bright windows of the school's main building. Come to think of it, Len thought that Tsuchiura had been doing that a lot lately.

And astute as she was, Kahoko had noticed it as well. After Kaji thanked her for her tips on reserving the library books-, and Kaji smirking that he would carry books for her anytime to anywhere-, she turned to Tsuchiura, "Ryotaro, you're doing it again," she said gently.

"Hm-mm?" Tsuchiura looked up in surprise from his papers, unable to say much more because his pen was somewhat stuck in his mouth.

Kahoko rolled her eyes heavenward and took out the pen from his mouth, "Reading in the dark. You'll hurt and strain your eyes if you keep doing that, you know." She shook his pen at him.

Tsuchiura sighed and rubbed his eyes, "Yeah, I guess," he concurred. Taking the pen neatly from her, his fingers slid to her hand and he curled them around her wrist and kept it between them as they walked.

Kahoko humped, "You've been studying a lot lately, haven't you?"

"Yup,"

"What's up? You got accepted to audition, right?"

"True, but I got to win it now," said Tsuchiura airily. He then turned to face Len behind him, "And after all, if we do get the part, we can't slack on the rest of our studies, right?"

Len raised his eyebrow. "True," he commented. At the back of his mind, he was reminded of something else he had noticed and continued by saying, "However, it all depends on how truthfully we can express the music, rather on how we cleverly we can play the pieces. Don't you think so?"

When Tsuchiura's face turned neutral, Len knew that he had hit a mark, though he yet to discover on what effect. Instead, the man just gave a relaxed half-smile and rolled his notes into a cylindrical tube.

"Yeah," he said simply.

Kahoko though, was intrigued, "Are you going to play a difficult piece for your audition?"

Walking beside Len, Hihara quipped between mouthfuls of a warm hot dog bun, "But, weren't the auditions for the piano-," he paused to swallow, "-, were held for tomorrow and not tonight?"

"Hihara, please chew your food before you talk, it's disgusting," frowned Len.

Hihara grinned at him furtively; his full cheeks make his smile twice its size. Len exhaled a humph at Hihara.

"Anyway, the piano auditions have a corollary to them."

"Huh? A what?"

"Len meant to say that there's another set of term of conditions in order to become a Kamiya pianist," explained Kaji.

"Oh,"

"Len's right," said Tsuchiura, "I was allowed to choose either to play my own choice of music; or to accept pieces suggested by the panel of judges, which I'm going to look around for them tonight."

"You're going to play what _they_ suggest you can play?" asked Len. He made it sound like a slightly loaded question, because Len would have thought that in his nature, Tsuchiura would define his own rules before following suggestions.

Because that was what Len himself would have done for his audition that night. But Tsuchiura simply turned his head forward and said, "It's just a matter of forward-strategy, that's all,"

He then smiled at Kahoko, who stared puzzlingly at him, "Besides, I got to make sure Kahoko gets home safely tonight, right? Still nervous, there?"

Kahoko blushed and went stone-blank. Her nod was jittery, distinctly mechanical.

Hihara sighed, "Gee whiz, Kahoko. After all that you've accomplished, you're still a wreck over something as simple as performing before a panel of judges?"

"It's different!" she wailed, "I've never performed for a record label before. If I get accepted, my playing will be heard over and over again on CDs and radios and everything."

Len shook his head "It's the same thing, Kahoko."

They stopped in front of the main entrance of the building, bathed in the light from the open doors. Around them were other people with instrument cases, some coming in, some going out, all very much a hive of anticipated activity. Everyone were chatting and smiling and waving to spotted friends.

Seeing that Kahoko was still silent, Len spoke with affirmation, "Whether the nature of the audience listening to you or the instrument you play, it all falls into the same thing. You play because you wanted to."

And with that, she beamed, "Playing because I wanted to," repeated Kahoko, "Of course."

Tsuchiura caught his glance and nodded appreciatively. Len returned the look with an answering nod but inwardly, he hoped that Tsuchiura would follow the same advice. On whatever it was that had the man so concerned about.

Something caught Hihara's attention from inside the main building. He waved at the approaching person and Len saw from between the masses, it was Shimizu and his cello. The guy hurried over to their group and welcomed them, announcing that the audition would start in 20 minutes. The rooms allocated for the specific instruments were at the music building's practice rooms and everybody's names had been posted on the doors.

He then surprised them by asking for Shoko and Yunoki, of which Kaji groaned and reminded Shimizu that it was the string and brass instruments for the first two nights of the four-day audition; Shoko and Yunoki would audition for their woodwind instruments on the day after tomorrow. Shimizu then shrugged and went _oh_.

Hihara took the opportunity to note them of Yunoki, who was at his part-time job and Hihara himself had taken a leave from his own part-time job to audition for that night. Kahoko then spotted two of her music school friends some distance away; one of them was her piano accompanist for the school competition two years ago. She excused herself to go there and implored everyone to check for their allocated rooms.

"Alright then, but please don't be late," said Len. He then turned to Tsuchiura, who had been inquiring to some fellows dressed in delivery company uniforms and they were moving some large electrical equipment towards the staircase.

Tsuchiura gestured to Len about a very large message board hung just inside from the main entrance, where not a few people had gathered around. None of them were carrying any sort of music instrument but all had some form of book or notes in their hands. They all appear to be studying the message board intently. From his view, Len thought it looked as if a large list had been posted there.

After Tsuchiura left, Shimizu pointed to the open doors of the music department, where most of the people were milling about. From where he stood, Len could hear some scattered music of miscellaneous violins, violas and cellos, with the occasional trumpet blast or deep voice of a trombone; students making some last minute practices.

"Do you guys want to see? There were some of them having fun playing a _Gavotte_ just now," said Shimizu.

Hihara blinked and made an indifferent shrug of his shoulders, "_Gavotte_, huh? I guess I'm game for it."

And so was Kaji, with more obvious enthusiasm than Hihara. Automatically, Len's feet moved to follow the trio, even though he would have preferred a much quieter place far from the crowd in order to prepare himself. As he tagged along behind them, a cold wash swept over him. It was the kind of feeling Len would get if someone was watching him very intently from a hidden place, and Len did not know who and from where.

It was peculiar to suddenly be possessed by such a feeling, granted that he was in a crowd of other music players, all of them former or currently attending Seisou students. Three out of ten of them would immediately recognize who he was simply by sight while the other 70 percent would also recognize him and knew better so to keep their distance.

Yet... why he would feel the way he did, much less actually _wanted_ to locate the observer, he could not understand the compulsion within him. At the top of his gaze, he sensed that the disconcerting viewer was above him. High above him. He looked up and saw... her.

It was a girl, no doubt about it, the way the breeze blew and played around her skirt. She was on the roof, sitting hunched over on the balcony railings, facing the school courtyard. Len's first thought was that at any moment, a good strong gust of wind might knock her off her perch and she would fall forward first, three-storeys straight to the ground.

His second thought was that he felt the girl was watching him, _specifically him_. Perhaps it was the way the girl was sitting so very silent and still, and he could not discern features other than her silhouette against the full moon glowing behind her. The white moon and her small bent dark form combined and made it seemed that they merged into one piercing stare.

Into him.

For a moment, he stared at her back. When she suddenly moved, her body shifting to lean on her other arm, Len paused and checked himself before he looked away. The girl was certainly staring at the people from her high place, there was no doubt. Of course, there were many people on the courtyard and at an unusual hour of the school. She was probably looking for someone, waiting for someone.

What she was doing way up so high was none of his business.

His compulsion was nothing more than an overactive imagination, perhaps, from anticipation that had built up from his practising hours prior to his audition. Nothing more. However, just before he entered the building, Len looked up once more to that place on the rooftop but all he saw was the moon. Only the moon.

The girl had vanished.

**End of Chapter 08**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Il Suono D'oro**

**Chapter09: Ready For Devil's Trill**

"Everybody line-up! Single file if you please," said the tall foreigner, waving his presence with a thick notepad. Dark-blond hair, fair-skinned and somewhat athletic-looking, Len remembered him as one of the quintet violinists from the audition speech day. The nametag pinned on his polo T-shirt was Arnold Alby-Bach.

As he walked through the crowd, checking their attendance, there were a few fake coughs and suppressed chuckling, mostly done behind the man's back as his face showed seriousness in doing his work. Thirty people mingled around in the narrow corridor of the ground-floor practise rooms, including Len and Kahoko. And these were just the violinists.

"And they all wanted to..." Kahoko's surprise was evident; it made her voice falter.

"There is no doubt," said Len, "Everyone wants to be the concertmaster for a violin soloist composition written by a world-class violinist."

"But wasn't the allocated space for violins in the orchestra only 16 places?"

"Indeed. This large number is from the administration. The project aims to capture as many as possible but only the judges would choose the right ones,"

"Oh. Like American Idol,"

Len raised an eyebrow in consideration, "Yes, well. I suppose that's one way to describe it,"

"Yeah, but without the public voting or the Paula Abdul," said a voice behind them.

The new person did not surprise them; Len had noticed his incoming presence but not his identity. He turned to face a scruffy-looking teacher with his hands in the pockets of his white coat and had tied his long lavender-tinted hair into a ponytail. Hiroto Kanazawa gave them both a welcoming beam.

Len greeted his former high school teacher, noticing firstly that the guy no longer smelled of cigarette residue. Kahoko was more enthusiastic in seeing one of the most prominent figures in her music career.

"Mr. Kanazawa!" she nearly screamed.

"Haha, nice to see you two again," said Kanazawa, "But keep it down will you? I don't want the Tempo-nator over there to see me yet," He pointed to the foreigner. The man had thrown a meaningful stare at one of the violinist, who had mischievously taken an opportunity to squeak a well-know movie theme music.

Even Len smirked for a split second, "He's Arnie Alby from Broadway Superior Orchestra, isn't he? He uses a stage name?"

Kanazawa grinned, "Yup. _Phantom of the Opera_, _Merry Widow_, _West Side Story_, you name it, he'd lead it. Word on the backstage is that he's taking a break from his work at the moment,"

"To help Mr. Kamiya?" asked Kahoko.

"Mr. Kamiya preferred that everybody's nametags ought to be just as stated in their identity card."

Len noted the similar style of nametag was hung around Kanazawa's neck.

"Are you one of the judges too, sir?" he asked.

Kanazawa twirled his finger around the neck-string and gave him a mournful sigh, "Not a chance. I'm just here to make sure the lights are off and the doors are locked when all this is over."

"So you're still a teacher here? What about Italy?" asked Kahoko, sounding somewhat half-hearted.

Kanazawa shook his head, "Just a temp thing going, while I clean up all my stuff here. House, bills, family and friends. The company is taking me and some others on a long European tour next year."

"Oh wow, that's so cool!"

"Kid, getting the chance for a comeback is cool. How the media will take my comeback may not be as cool," But Kanazawa said it with a soft chortle, his confidence was obviously assured.

When Kanazawa mentioned 'the media', Len was reminded of someone who was also part of the Kamiya project and an old friend of theirs.

"By the way," he began, "we've noticed that Ousaki was at the University during the speech the other day. He never mentioned anything about this to us before,"

"Well, now didn't he? Did you two ask him about it at the time?"

Kahoko shook her head, "There was an answer and question session after the speech but it might have sounded off-topic in this regard."

Kanazawa glanced at Arnie Alby taking the attendance, slowing inching closer to Kahoko and Len as the foreigner wrote and marked down the names, "I supposed that Ousaki meant to give you guys a surprise. I know for a fact that he's one of the judges for violins tonight."

Though he did not show it, Len was taken back at the information, "A judge? For the orchestra?"

Kanazawa nodded, "Not bad, eh? Our Ousaki? Even after all the critics' blabbing about his age and experience, he's managed to get himself such a lofty collaboration."

"Did Ousaki meet Kamiya in Vienna?" asked Len.

"Heh, I guess. Ousaki said that Kamiya was at that very moment, looking for young musicians from the Japanese community and they happened to bump into each other during a conference," said Kanazawa with a crooked smile, "Lucky dog, eh?"

Lucky. In Vienna.

It felt like... an opportunity passed. For Len.

Arnie Alby insinuated himself between Kahoko and Len and grunted for their names. He raised an eyebrow as Len gave him his full name but the man had said nothing more. After he marked his notepad, he noticed Kanzawa standing casually. Alby thanked them both for coming before turning towards the teacher.

"I've checked from the other corridor. There's a big crowd for the cellos as well," said Alby.

"How many?" asked Kanazawa.

"20."

The teacher stared, a mixture of shock and surprise coloured his face. "But-but... there's only 8 places for cellos!"

"Yes and only one to be lead cellist. This could take all night," Alby shrugged his shoulders, "I'm sorry but I guess we're going to have to move the violins up-upstairs. I hope the gallery is ready?"

"Can't we just ask half of this lot to go home and come back tomorrow?"

Alby shook his head, "We don't know how big the crowd would be tomorrow night. God help us if it's bigger than tonight. And then there are the pianist and percussion auditions in the morning. Those two would definitely need the gallery and we don't know how _that_ will take either."

"Aie-yai-yai," groaned Kanazawa, "Okay, sure. I just got the place cleaned this morning anyway."

"This would have been much easier if Kamiya was not so concerned about security,"

"Well, Kira did not want your lot to use the school hall either. The rest of the school got their own music performances, if you know what I mean."

As Alby turned away to address the rest of the violinists of the new placement, Len questioned Kanazawa about the place that was the gallery.

"It's the big room full of mirrors upstairs that had been closed for years," he said, "It's the place where, if you get picked, you two would be coming back there again and again. Every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday night, plus compulsory Saturday morning and maybe into the afternoon as well. Throughout the year."

"Our orchestra practise room?" asked Kahoko.

"Yup," Kanazawa raised his arms between them and gave them a dual friendly glomp-hug on their backs, "Welcome back to Seisou Academy."

Someone called out for Kanazawa and the man returned a nod. He then pushed Len and Kahoko by their shoulders into the moving throng and snapped his fingers good luck to them both. The two exchanged speaking glances before following everybody trailing behind Alby.

"We're going to pass through some places where the others are having their audition so I hope you all will be considerate in keeping silent," said Alby. His spoken words were dripping with all the subtext of _if I hear another Hollywood action movie theme..._

They walked up the far end stairs from the ground floor toward the first floor of the music building. In the distance, Len thought he heard a familiar English folk music, _Greensleeves_, just as Kaji said he would play. It was unusual to hear it on a viola. Kaji was indeed becoming more and more creative in his playing, Len thought. The gentle _romanesca_ somehow made his instrument light and airy.

While going up another floor, they passed through a group of cello players as they went to the second floor, all waiting for their turn outside the rooms. Coincidently, Len could also hear Shimizu's playing from inside one of them. He knew it was definitely his junior because Shimizu had played Bach's Prelude for the solo cello once before.

"That was what he played in the final selection years ago, wasn't it?" smiled Kahoko, noting Len's absorption.

Shimizu playing a song he was comfortable and familiar with. A safe study but this time, Len thought it had a slightly different tempo in his play. More strength, more maturity, more... experience.

Realizing that he was turning into some kind of a music dandy, a fob rendered mushy by listening to all the auditions through the walls, Len slapped the thought out of his head and opened his music score to study his own chosen piece. Focus and concentration on playing the way wanted it to sound. He kept his mind so full of his own music that he did not notice Hihara until the latter enthusiastically slapped him on the shoulder.

"Good luck, Tsukimori!" he cried.

Full of irksome, he contemplated stuffing the blow piece of Hihara's trumpet down his throat but Kahoko greeted Hihara first.

"Good luck to you too, Kazuki!"

Hihara gave her a thumbs-up and gestured to the trumpeters' group he was with, "You guys are changing audition rooms too, eh?"

"Yeah, that place was getting kind of full," said Kahoko,

"Tell me about it. The trumpeters are moving to audition in the GE building at the furthest classrooms."

"By the way Kazuki, you haven't told us what music you were going to audition."

"Really? I thought I already did," he grinned, "I'm going to play Mozart's Serenade No. 13,"

"_A Little Night Music_?" wondered Len, his discomfort eventually passed, "That's a quite popular piece."

"Yeah! I've been saving it to play for something just like this," grinned Hihara. He then pointed to their group. "I'll catch up with you two later."

Leaving Hihara with the other trumpeters making their own way on the opposite direction, the two continued on. They passed next to one of the teacher lounges. From its open door, they heard voices of a discussion. One of those voices, Len identified as Tsuchiura.

"Also, about the concertos, how would they be included in our overall grading scheme?" he asked.

Len peeked into the room and saw Tsuchiura and several other students in a circle, some standing and some sitting on the large sofas. He appeared to be addressing to a familiar-looking woman with short dark hair. She nodded to him and answered.

"Good question. While the university faculty preferred that it should be considered within the Recital Attendance program, your lecturers had discussed with my team about your own opinions..."

As the woman explained away to the group, Tsuchiura caught Len and Kahoko watching. He gave them both an approving wave of his hand and received one in return from Kahoko. As he directed his attention back to the discussion, Len reminded himself to inquire Tsuchiura about the question he had just asked Mrs. Kamiya, among other things as well.

After perceiving Mrs. Kamiya's presence in that teacher's lounge, Len wondered if Kamiya himself would attend the auditions.

"Nope," said Kanazawa, when Len posed that question upon arriving into the gallery, "It's just the Tempo-nator and Ousaki who would be watching your fingers. Mr. Busy-Celebrity got to spend his Friday night with Mr. Seisou-Director,"

"That seemed somewhat inconsiderate," said Len.

"Heh, you know what's even more inconsiderate? Sponsors that had to be constantly wooed," pouted Kanazawa.

"Is Mr. Kira a sponsor then?" asked Kahoko.

"Him? Then maybe French restaurants should serve French maids. Part of the return revenue from the album would fund Seisou for the next ten years or so. Still, Kira's got tough bargaining instinct. If he's giving anything here, it's employee labour,"

Kahoko giggled, "Still putting the school ahead, first, as usual?"

Kanazawa rolled his eyes, "That guy needs a girlfriend,"

Len managed to stop himself from snorting indecently, "Kanazawa, that's throwing stones from glass houses."

The teacher just hissed, "Same words to you, buddy,"

"Kanazawa, get those two into their seats," Alby called out to them. From the doorway, Ousaki entered. At first sight, Len thought that Ousaki looked a little more tired than usual. The man had dark rings under his eyes and his hair was not as well-combed as it should but those seemed to be his only flaws. He shook his hand at Kanazawa and the older man made his exit and closed the door.

"Alright then, let's not waste any more time," he spoke brightly to the crowd, "This looks to be a great place. I hope that the next time you enter here, you would all be a fully qualified member of the team."

From his bag, he passed Alby another set of notepads as they both took their seats behind the judges' table. He then caught Len's and Kahoko's and gave them a wide friendly smile as he sat down.

In Len's mind, the mirror-walled long room was not as large as the gallery he was used to seeing his mother practise her piano orchestras but it was still well proportioned. The windows along one wall were slightly open to let in some of the cooling night air. The wooden floor appeared to be just recently mopped and the chairs arranged in formation were the old school chairs he was so used to. He took a seat as everyone else sat down as well.

"_Welcome back to Seisou Academy."_

Coming back. But Len felt like he never left. Never went away. It was just as if his life had stalled. What was he waiting for, why was he still here, he did not know. Like he was on the threshold of going somewhere, doing something, yet he seemed to have forgotten an important entity he knew he needed before he leaves. He was still looking for the answer. Waiting for it.

With these thoughts in his mind, he barely heard the other players had their names called up in alphabetical order. But he did play attention when they played their music. Brahms, Handel, Mendelssohn, the Bach family; various terms of _allegro, moderato, largo_ in various forms of _arpeggio, crescendo, fugue_ and everything else.

Beside him, Kahoko was obviously not listening to the technicalities of the player's skills. Her head was low, her hand relaxed on her lap and her eyes half-shut; her pose was just as she always was, always had been. Listening intently. Len knew that the girl beside him possessed a gift of innocent appreciation. He learned it from her, even as she did not knew at the time that she had been teaching him.

His smile then quickly turned into a frown as Kahoko suddenly drew a quick intake of breath when Ousaki called out her name. She got up and gave Len a sweated cheer, which he returned with a look with all the expression do-control-yourself.

"Hino, Kahoko. Correct?" asked Alby from behind the notepad. He looked up as Kahoko positioned herself before the long table.

"Ye-" she paused then coughed, "Yeah,"

"Hm-mm. You know the drill. State your full name and your music piece. Then please await our decision after you're done before leaving this room."

In front of her, Ousaki gave her an encouraging nod and jerked a thumb to the mirror behind him, "If you're feeling nervous, just look at yourself playing."

"Ah-a, okay," smiled Kahoko.

"Begin now," said Alby.

And Kahoko played. Her choice of song was Vivaldi's _Spring_. Prior to hearing her play, Len had reservations if she could execute the piece skilfully. It was a buoyant and popular tune; witness its use in 4 out of 5 overly-hyped cable TV nature programs. A favourite by many throughout the years, Kahoko had told everyone that she picked it because of that. But when she played, she made it sound like it was her favourite as well. A special favourite.

"Thank you, miss," said Alby, upon the end of her playing. In fact, hers was only one of the few Alby and Ousaki allowed to play as long as she helped herself. That watching them listening to her being a pleasure was all the positive support Kahoko could see. She bowed her thanks and slowly strolled towards the exit, her walking motion was not as awkward as before.

Say, what was he thinking about before Kahoko started playing? Len could not seem to recall his previous glumness. But what was left was a solid sense of determination. Stronger determination. He may support Kahoko in her endeavours as violinists but first and foremost, it would be he who was to be the concertmaster.

At the end of the day, or in case, before the night was out, Len made sure that he would be the one leading Kamiya's original violin concerto. With pride.

"Len Tsukimori," called out Alby.

Len got up from his seat and made his way walking between the other seated violinists, mindful of keeping his violin out of harm's way and to stand in front of the judges.

Looking up from the notepad, Alby muttered, "Tsukimori... Tsukimori... Any relation to Misa Hamai?"

Len frowned. Behind him, someone made a none-to-obvious cough. Series of coughs.

"Yes," Better get that over with. Quickly.

Ousaki whispered something to Alby that was too low for Len to make out. Alby nodded and indifferently said the usual platitudes.

"Len Tsukimori. Playing Giuseppe Tartini's _Devil's Trill_," said Len.

Len had strategized how he was going to play. He started with the slow beginning section, pulling out on all the long notes, embedding as much of his skill into the piece. Then with little warning, he began to build momentum from his foundation. He brought up the pace, energetic and bouncy, until the notes appear to be plucking all by themselves. He chased the music around like an impish spirit with a garden of will-o-wisps, teasing the ears as an illusionist would with magic tricks.

Just as Ousaki had suggested to Kahoko, Len watched himself play in the mirror. No, he was not nervous. Not while playing this. Not having to keep an eye on his fingers, not the way his bow flew on his violin. It was himself.

Len Tsukimori watched himself play. He caught his own eyes in the reflection, his own thoughts showing back to himself to infinity.

_What are you waiting for? Where are you going? You're wasting time_.

To these, his reflection held no answer. Len listened to his playing, concentrating hard on perfection. Listening, remembering, following, seeking, and waiting... for his life's calling.

A calling... Distantly ringing in his mind.

A call- A ringtone?

_What the fuck...?!_

An intrusive sound sliced through his performance. It was loud and piercing and Len wanted to murder it. He stopped his playing with scratchy jerk, but the cellphone continued to ring, its sound echoed in the room.

Alby blinked at the noise and then turned to address the sitting players, "Excuse me!" he cried. "Who is that?"

It was a complete _faux pas_ for a fellow musician to leave his cellphone on; more so during someone else's audition. An unwritten rule no one had wanted to remind anyone of because everyone here was fully concentrated on playing. And not being disturbed. Or be disturbed by anyone.

"I asked," boomed Alby, his temper rising with his voice, "_Whose is that?!_"

If Arnold Ably-Bach was planning on murdering the cellphone owner, Len would not thank the man.

Len wanted to do the crime himself.

The cellphone was off, yet no one in the gallery admitted guilt. Everyone was turning to face everyone else, all trying to throw contempt at whoever it was. But there was no one who apologized, or willing to apologize. The ready-to-scorn looks on the remaining crowd's faces eventuate to puzzling glances, as it was clear that whoever's cellphone it was that cut off Len's audition, it was clearly not one of them.

"The window," pointed Ousaki. When Alby stared questioningly at him, Ousaki gestured, "I believe it came from outside."

The window? Len looked towards the windows built along one side of the room. All of them were partially open; since the room had just recently been reopened, it was necessary to get air circulating as breathing people filled the space. The night had been very clear and quiet. If it was outside from the window of a third-storey room meant that whoever that freaking person was being outside had to be on the freaking roof.

Alby sighed and got up from his seat. He went over to the closest window and shut it tight, urging those nearest to the other windows to do the same. A series of creaking squeaks and metallic clicks followed. As Alby made his way back to the judges seat, Len heard him grumbled the best kind of American curses from under his breath.

Len felt like doing the same, only directly at the perpetrator and loudly.

He stood on his spot, his violin still on his shoulder, waiting for the judge's next order. To continue or not to continue. When Alby waved his hand towards the exit-, "Thank you Tsukimori. I believe we have made a decision-," Len's heart dropped. He bit the inside of his bottom lip to hide his frustration. But this was an audition. It would not be right to replay while others were still waiting and anticipating their turn. Their own one-shot chances.

Len gave the two men an exiting bow and picked up his instrument case. With all elegance, he walked toward the exit door.

Outside, the hallways was almost empty. Save for a few stranglers pacing and slouching around outside, waiting for their friends still yet to perform, Len could see no one he recognized. Kahoko must have gone to look for the others. Because the audition places were so spread out, they all had agree to meet up and wait at the cafeteria.

"Excuse me," he asked one of the waiting violinists. The boy, a third-year high school student by his uniform, looked up when Len spoke to him.

"Yes?"

"I'm just wondering. Did you notice anyone coming down from that staircase?" Len pointed to the staircase that led to only one more floor above theirs.

The boy studied the area for a moment and paused to think, "No sir," he answered, "I know a lot of us standing around here would notice. The sound of roof door slams like fallen piano, even on an airless day,"

"I see. Thank you."

He carefully placed his case on one of the old worn tables that had been taken out of the gallery, but yet to be brought downstairs. Certain of its stability, Len placed his violin inside and closed it with a definite click. Picking it up and ignoring those around him, he made his way through the hallway and towards that staircase he had inquired.

Going up.

Oh yes, he was _not_ going to let this one down. In fact, he had a very disturbing premonition. An idea of which that cellphone user, the one who had ignorantly and insultingly jeopardized what might have been his major chance at a professional Japan-based orchestra, even a short-term one.

Because that ringtone of that cellphone, its uniqueness, he had heard it once before. A few days ago.

At a bus shelter not far from school.

**End of Chapter 09**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _

_Author's PPS: To listen to Len's audition of Tartini's Devil's Trill (which I kind of liked), you can download the MP3 at my profile._


	10. Chapter 10

_Chapter 10! FF-dot-Net Reviews answering time! Sorry for being a tad late. Had a bout of bad writer's block. This chapter was a bit difficult to write (am I over my head here? Hehehehehe!)._

_immortalxdreams: Hey, thank you. Yeah, your name was one of the first on my Alerts. I hope you'll like this chapter as I finally managed to get them to meet alone for the first time._

_LDeldories: Yay, I liked your fanfic too! This proves that OCs can work well if used correctly._

_MusicalSoul: It's still going on. I'm close to averaging 4000 words a chapter, so you guys won't be too bored re-reading the story in case of me on emergency leave or something. I've researched a lot on the original Swan Lake so I thought the first chapter's last line was appropriate._

_HimeSama: Haha, I've posted all the hints I could give about RyoxKaho in my profile. No, I haven't played the game but that didn't stop me from looking up and eating up each and every bit of info about Kaji and Kira! _

_LV1982: Gosh, such long reviews you're giving me. I'll try to answer it all. I'm glad you think I know what I'm doing, so maybe if I get writer's block again or something, you can remind me (hehehehe!). No, I'm not a professional novelist. I just like to tell stories. In fact, this fanfic is the longest story I've ever written, so far. And I don't think Oh-I-Thank-You-Corda-Goddess would want to read bajillion words of my unlicensed fanfic (wouldn't be fair to the other fanfic writers as well). _

_-I'm sorry that you might have to wait so long for RyoxKaho story. My decision was to protect myself from the LenxKaho mob (have you seen all the pairing polls everywhere? Len might as well poke a hole in Ryo with his violin stick and turn the guy into a deflated soccer ball). You will however, read bits of hints on how their love came to be and how much it's growing stronger through the other Corda guys' story. _

_-I did your suggestion and I've also updated my profile. Though, why in world anyone would want to read so much of ME-MYSELF-I writing still baffles me._

_-Thank you for adding me. I was wondering what it was in my Stats, thinking FanFic-dot-Net's system had accidentally done something or so. Can I be a staff? I'm really good at doing absolutely nothing._

_-Again, the RyoxKaho story would be the very-very last one. It's a sort of reminiscing theme, looking back at third-year high school as first-year university ends. I do thank you for the protection though, but I hope this LenxOC story would be enough buffer for any grenades coming my way. _

_-I'm keeping my heart open whether it's Violin Romance or not. The ultimate ending would be Lady-Corda-Faerie's decision herself and I'll support that no matter what._

_-I'll eye a Google search for the person you suggested. It might be helpful to have an extra hand in the transcripts._

_-Ryo's bangle More mystery to come..._

_-The final FINALE is the story how I'm going to merge all the chosen endings of the Corda 2 and Encore game into one clean ending so I can connect it with the RyoxKaho fanfic, so it should be as close as possible to the game, though mostly based from the manga (I can only get monthly Lala Japanese scans and forum members' summaries but that's okay).. But I've yet to figure out a few other details, so I will also add a lot of bits and pieces from the anime._

* * *

**Il Suono D'oro**

**Chapter10: When _Primo_ met _Passo_**

Heavy roof door; cost money.

One Nokia cellphone with service; cost more money.

Violin instrument disappeared in 6 seconds; priceless.

There were some things money _could_ predict. For everything else, there was Kumiko Yukigawa.

_That skater girl._

That notion invaded his mind just as Len was going up the dark staircase to the rooftop. But as he neared the top step, the door suddenly swung open wide and in a flash of moonlight, in rushed a girl with a blond streak in her mud-dark hair. Len nearly crashed face-first as they caught each other's eyes at such a close distance that he could have kissed her.

The girl gasped in shock and speedily moved to his right, trying to avoid falling into him as she jumped down the steps. Unfortunately, her right arm was raised to Len's shoulder at the time, her hand held a distinctive item to her ear. She twisted to avoid him and Len himself moved out of the way to give her room to run. Still, her elbow bumped hard against his arm, her knee against his violin case.

Len cringed as that bone struck a nerve somewhere and for a moment, he could not feel his right hand. On impulse, his gripping hand twitched as he tried to move away from that girl. The knock of her knee on his case was far more subtle but in the circumstances, he accidentally dislodged the case and it fell away from him.

Burning ice seized his chest as he watched gravity took his instrument beyond his reach.

Still on the steps below him, the skater girl noticed the falling object coming towards her. Her reflexes kicked in and she turned herself around, throwing her arms out for the safety catch. The case landed neatly into her outstretched hands with barely a sound. Something flew up the stairs from the girl's hand but Len was fully occupied with thoughts of his violin.

Only when he saw that the girl's hold on his case looked secured did that trickling sense of dread and panic stop. Replaced by minute essence of a fury.

The skater girl looked no less shocked as Len was angry. She mouthed a single word-, "You?"-, and blinked in the darkness as though he was a vision of a joke. He was about to hiss a more menacing reply but a new sound, a male voice, called out from near his feet, distracted him. He looked down at the threshold of the roof door.

"Kumiko? Kumiko?" said the silver rectangular object.

It was the girl's cellphone. Her fingers must have fumbled from its own grip as she had flung her arms for his case. And the cellphone had landed in the path of danger. The moonlight that swept the staircase in silver glow was quickly being cut off as the heavy roof door swung to close. The girl drew a sharp intake of breath but before Len managed to think of doing something, the door slammed against the phone, crushing it.

There was a loud plastic-breaking crack sound before the door bounced and vibrated for a moment and then it close more slowly into a complete shut with a doomed bang. Leaving Len and that girl within the darkness of the staircase. For a second, there was a complete silence filled with surprised air. But a pained eek escaped the girl's teeth and Len felt another shove, pushing his back against the wall and the roof door opened again, blinding Len's eyes for a second time.

The girl flew out to the roof and the door closed again, swinging faster and with a louder deep bang. Effectively making Len alone on the staircase just as he had before. Only without his violin this time. And feeling completely dumbstruck.

It all took just 6 seconds.

When he recovered himself to adjust to the sudden turn of events, Len was growing impatiently annoyed. The skater girl had a dangerous perchance for running everywhere and doing everything without warning. She had successfully ranked herself as bad as Hihara on his list of people to stay away from, though still less than the reporter-witch, Nami Amou.

_And she took off with his..._

Len slapped the whole of his palm against the door in a very irritated shove. He blinked in the bright moonlight and the few garden-style florescent lamps placed around the area. The girl was just in front of his, her back facing him. Just when he thought she could do nothing more to shock him, she unexpectedly turned around and thrust his violin case from her arms to his chest.

"Yours!" she cried, looking as breathless as he felt.

His arms automatically hugged his instrument and the girl quickly walked away. Len found himself having to pause to recollect his thoughts for a second time. He also felt like something at his temple was twitching in distaste. This was becoming out of hand. The girl herself was ignoring him, of course. She had tossed her skates to the floor and was pacing around erratically with her head down, mayhap, looking for her cellphone on the ground.

His own distress was more to his concern. Had that unexpected toss damaged his violin? Len let the case gently to the floor and opened it with anticipation. There seemed to be no outward damage. But what of his strings? He steadied his hand to pick up the violin and tucked it under his chin. Bowing on some bars of an _arpeggio_, he confirmed that everything still felt alright. The last pinpricks of that burning ice disappeared entirely.

"Oh, please," said an exasperated voice behind him, "It's not like that thing's a kitten."

Len exhaled. And counted slowly to 3. He placed his music mechanism back into its case and secured its fastenings. Turning to that skater girl, -_Ms. Yukigawa_-, he saw her fumbling with her hands in the shadows of the benches and plant pots, feeling around for her device. Something glinted at the corner of his eye, something silver and not far from him. Just inside the shade of the staircase concrete box of the roof was the silver cellphone.

Or what was left of it. At first glance, it looked not much was damaged. The PDA-style shape of the cellphone was as cracked as a hard-boiled egg but the pieces appeared to still be in place. What had noticed him were the bits of flickering on the visual screen before it died completely.

Maybe because seeing the destruction inflicted upon the infernal gadget, and that he had not need to do anything, made Len feel charitable enough to call out to Ms. Yukigawa. "Hey you. It's over here."

She looked at him with a probing gawk, "Huh?"

"Your cellphone."

Len crept closer towards the broken item, his hand outstretched to take it. But a series of running steps came before a soft grip captured his hand and engulfed his fingers before he could reach it.

"Don't touch it!" the girl's face was a mask of solemn intent. She dropped to the floor beside him and gave him a serious look. "It's an old acid battery. You'll burn your hand if its leaking."

Forcefully, she pushed and released the fingers she held away and released it as abruptly as she had caught it. Len's hand twitched from the loose of that hard grip for a moment but he ignored it. Ms. Yukigawa showed no unusual outward response. She took out a large faded green handkerchief and covered the phone under a square sheet. She flattened and wrapped it, being careful to gather all the pieces within the cloth.

Seeing that she was ignoring him, Len took his violin case and got up, watching her adjust her hold on the cloth covered phone; its covers were falling apart. When his shadow loomed over her sitting figure, Ms. Yukigawa looked up to him and mumbled indistinctively, "Yeah, um. Nice to meet you again."

Len was torn at either being loss for words or so full of the inappropriate ones that one could not, -should not-, say to a lady. But it was Ms. Yukigawa who spoke first. She tied her phone into a neat package and sheepishly gave him a crooked smile.

"So...um, you were going up for some fresh air?"

Screw the small talk.

"What are you doing here?" asked Len, coolly.

He invested every ounce of serious weight in his words. In less than a week, all his encounters with her had not been anything good. First it was the near-fatal car accident, followed by a sidewalk collision that had dirtied his precious notes. The sight of his violin flying out of his grasp was the last straw.

Ms. Yukigawa blanched at his gaze. Her eyes were wide for a moment after he spoke. Len remembered their dark green colour but under the moonlight, they appear to be blue-black. But then her expression changed and those eyes were as guarded as glass. She narrowed her gaze before him and turned solemn.

She stood up and he noted her height. On skates, she was as tall as him; he remembered being at eye level. He initially thought she might have been the same as Kahoko's height but in normal shoes, she was indeed taller. Maybe give or take only ten centimetres shorter than him but there was a presence on how she carried herself that made her appear even taller.

"Why, looking for my phone," was her answer, her tone was dispassionate. "Thanks for finding it. You didn't have to, you know,"

When she turned away and proceeded to her dropped skates, Len inwardly gritted his teeth, "Specifically, why are you up here on the roof?" he asked.

After picking up her skates, Ms. Yukigawa turned to face him, "_Why_ do you want to know?" she countered, "It's my own business,"

Len raised a considering eyebrow, "Your _business_ had had disturbed a very important session just downstairs," Namely his, but he was not going to emphasize to her on that point.

Ms. Yukigawa sighed, "An assembly of university students on a music practise, I got it. It was announced throughout the bulletin boards everywhere. But-," She stiffed briefly and gave him a thoughtful look, "It's just a music practise. No big deal, right? You can go downstairs back into that gallery and continue practising, no need to fuss."

No need to fuss? She thought he was _fussing_?

Len crossed his arms, "Regardless, whether it was a music practise or a session or an assembly, you should have been aware the consideration of cellphone etiquette when being anywhere near here," he grimed stone-faced, "Your disturbance had been quite rude."

"And you sought me to give me a lecture? You don't look like one of those name-tagged officials so why you're doing their business?"

"I'm correctly asking you to please switch off your cellphone."

"Well, gee, I guess proper cellphone etiquette must have been knocked out of my mind. I tend to live pretty rough and tumble," said Ms. Yukigawa sarcastically, "Except with violins and kittens, of course."

"You admit being a graceless schoolgirl?"

She actually hissed, "Only around pretentious gentlemen."

Len silently suppressed a snarl. How the hell did they get to this point? He was about to say something possibly un-gentlemanlike when her face grew soft and commiserating. She looked away from him for a moment and brushed her thick fringe away from her eyes.

"Alright! I'm so-," she sighed and then looked straight at him, "I know I'm just repeating myself... But I really, really am sorry for disturbing the music practise,"

A bit of concern, but Len was not buying it. Not yet. He listened as she continued, watching her hands as she gestured.

"I came up here to get the best phone signal. And to avoid all the people. When the violinists all suddenly showed up in the gallery, I just wanted to be alone."

Len shook his head, "It would have been better if you had used your phone somewhere else. Even if you had not planned on being noisy, this is a large roof area."

"I couldn't leave,"

_Huh_? "Excuse me?"

"I wanted to listen to the music."

Bewildered, Len assumed that they were right back to where they started, "Yes, of course. But obviously if you had wanted to remain unseen, you should have remained silent as well."

"Right. You're right. Me stupid schoolgirl," tsk'd Ms. Yukigawa, "Since you sought me, I guess you brought karma just bite me back. This phone will never ring again, I can tell you that." She held up the small rag covered cellphone to his eye level.

Len frowned at the package. Karma or not, her problem was not his even fit to be the least of his concern. In any comparison, her loss was not even close to risking the outcome of his audition. But as the incident had occurred and the felonious gadget successfully silenced, what else was there do to? He turned and walked away without another word.

Behind him, Ms. Yukigawa followed in his wake.

She continued to follow him down the dark roof staircase and into the lit corridors. And down the other staircases as well. They walked in silence, some ten feet apart, yet everywhere he turned, she seemed to be going to the same way behind him. Len knew that he was only thinking too much but the feel of her gaze on her back, real or imaginary, was unsettling him for some reason.

Ridiculous. She said she had wanted to make a phone call. There were a few public phones downstairs just outside the cafeteria. And he was going to the cafeteria after all.

"I don't stab at the back, don't worry," commented Ms. Yukigawa, "And I'm not on skates now."

Len turned and caught her approaching closer to him. She gave him a curious and inquiring gaze but Len turned away and kept silent. Walking beside him, she humped.

"You're good at that," she said, reluctant awe in her voice, "Keeping your face passive. Must have taken you years of practise."

His jaw hardened. Good enough response at least, as he rather not be speaking. But as it turned out, he needed not to.

"You need to work on your whole body language, though. It's screaming volumes," said Ms. Yukigawa, "I take it... that you're still mad at me?"

"I'm not in the mood for talking, if you don't mind."

"Heh. Alright, whatever."

None of her business. Should not be her concern. Len was just exercising his right to remain silent in the face of provocation. But then she spoke again and hit a mark on the nail when she mentioned his music piece for the audition.

"It was you, wasn't it?" she asked, "Tartini's _Devil's Trill_? The one playing when my phone rang?"

"Yes," was all he said without glaring.

"Oh crap," she continued, and then gave an apologetic chuckle, "Heh, wow. There seem to be bad luck every time we cross paths."

"Fate had nothing to do with it," said Len, unable to help himself, "Our encounters had been misfortunate because you were careless and inconsiderate in being aware of your surroundings and those around you."

When Ms. Yukigawa made no remark, Len applauded himself for had finally found some way of shutting her up. But at the corner of his eye, he saw her eyes had turned cloudy. Now what? A memory sparked, of the first time he had accidentally stared at those dark green depths. He debated making some off-beat comment, just as Yunoki or Kaji might do easily, but he could not think of anything as it was not his nature to make pointless comments.

It was Ms. Yukigawa who spoke instead, "Yeah, I was... careless," she sighed, "I had a lot of things in mind for the past few days. Need to hurry up and do them all."

She took off ahead of him, before turning around and gave him an enchanting smile, "Let us hope that we'll never meet again, okay?"

Then the skater girl beamed and speed away ahead, her running motion made her seem as if she was still gliding on skates. Len blinked, for a moment, mystified. But as she disappeared around a corridor, his puzzlement vanished. Never meet each other again, huh? To Len, concerning her, it actually sounded like good advice.

God knows that he never wanted to feel the same terror he had felt when he lost his hold on his violin at that roof staircase. The hand that held the case, the same hand that Ms. Yukigawa had pushed away from touching his broken cellphone, twitched for a moment but he ignored the odd reaction.

Len walked alone through the familiar path hundreds of time before toward the cafeteria. Of course, the cafeteria food counter itself was closed for the night but many people, those who had completed their auditions, congregated the area to take advantage of the available chairs and tables for rest and company.

Soon, he was moving across in more densely populated areas. Standing just outside at the entrance of the cafeteria, Len spotted Kahoko, Kaji and Shimizu in an active conversation. It was Kaji who spotted him first and noted to the others. Kahoko gave him a signalling wave, but stopped halfway when something else caught her sight. Len followed her line of gaze, thinking perhaps Hihara or Tsuchiura was in coming.

Instead, it was none other than Ms. Yukigawa, not too far from them. She was standing at the public phone corners, one hand on the receiver and the other was covering her eyes. Her posture was slumped against the booth, her arm cushioning her forehead. To describe in her own words, Ms. Yukigawa's body language was screaming exhaustion and possibly an incoming headache.

Kahoko broke away from the group with a just-a-minute gesture to Kaji and Shimizu. She approached Ms. Yukigawa with a gentle pat on her shoulder. The younger girl gave a start and stared at Kahoko before she quickly turned away, rubbing her eyes with her wrist and replaced the phone receiver back to its holding place. When she turned back to Kahoko, she had a cherry grin on her face and covered her hand over a wide, genuine-looking yawn.

Kahoko blinked and returned her smile. After a few moments of chatting, she took Ms. Yukigawa's hand and ushered her toward Kaji and Shimizu. Ms. Yukigawa looked obviously reluctant as Kahoko was persistent, but she appeared to consent to be pulled along. Len subtly grimaced. So much for never meeting again. He debated on perhaps to ignore his friends for a while, even though they had already spotted him.

Maybe an excuse to visit the vending machines? But for the second time that night, Hihara merrily slapped a hand on Len's back and that thought popped out of his head. After mouthing some natural happy inquiries about the state of satisfaction by his own performance, Hihara noticed the rest ahead of him and of the new individual in their midst.

"Hey, it's that the skater girl? She's a GE student here?"

Utterly rhetorical questions, even if it was from Hihara. Along with her uniform, Ms. Yukigawa also wore her protective pads on her knees and elbows. Her helmet, Len had assumed, was in her back-pack by the size of its bulge. Of course, the most damning evidence was the pair of skates she held in one hand.

"Wow, small world," said another familiar voice behind him, Tsuchiura. He gave a questioning surprise at the sight of Kahoko cheerfully trying to engage Ms. Yukigawa to an introduction with Kaji and Shimizu; the former looked amazed while the latter looked bored. Tsuchiura continued, "Kahoko and her knew each other?"

There was no avoiding it now. Len huffed and steeled himself to be led towards the party of four so they would merge into a group of seven.

"Hey Ryo. Hey there, Kazuki," greeted Kahoko, as they approached, "Oh Len, guess who I found."

Before him, Ms. Yukigawa grinned with teeth for a spilt second before she gave him a smirk, "Yes, uh, hello," and said nothing more.

Len returned her hello with a nod, ignoring Kahoko's somewhat curious and perplexed look between him and Ms. Yukigawa.

"A recently transferred student, eh? No wonder I've never seen you before," said Hihara.

"Yes, um, I just moved into the area,"

"How long have you been skating? You've scared us like hell the other day," said Tsuchiura.

"Um, for a while. Since I was thirteen. Great way to move around," said Ms. Yukigawa. She looked slightly dazed at the attention around her, "Aaah, you're all Seisou music student graduates, I take it?"

"I believe I'm still a student here so I'll answer no to that," said Shimizu.

Ms. Yukigawa expression turned blank at Shimizu's words but looked half-assured as Kahoko winked beside her.

Everyone seemed to have something to ask or comment about from her. Granted, their first crash-course encounter had had been very much startling. Ms. Yukigawa had blushed and apologized furiously when she heard about the bumper damage on Hihara's minivan, which the latter accepted her apology instantly and groaned that he would rather she not think about it too much.

Instead, Hihara inquired about her two kittens, a story which Kahoko had not heard before and that gotten another bout of conversation around Ms. Yukigawa. Eventually, they got to the point of how did she first met Kahoko; evidently it was also a curiosity to be slaked. A point Len was not amused. He had not contributed anything to the dialogue of 'Kahoko's New Friend' and it was even less amused when Kahoko had described about Ms. Yukigawa 'bumping' into them.

Juggling all the attention, Ms. Yukigawa seemed a bit overwhelmed herself at the ever jumping of topics. Though she was readily responsive and politely approachable, she kept darting quick glances at his way, as though she had been waiting for him to say something or do something outward. Len frowned and ignored her.

"By the way," said Kahoko, "Did you and your friend managed to select a music piece?"

"Excuse me?" asked Ms. Yukigawa.

"Wow, you're into music as well?" wondered Hihara.

"Kumiko happened to need a peek through one of my library book once. _Adagio_."

"I remember that one, it's full of music scores," said Shimizu, "You can play an instrument?"

"No, I-I actually-,"

"Shimizu, you've already read a university-syllabus textbook?"

"That's enough, Kumi," said the voice of stranger.

That new voice, deep and authoritive, effectively cut through their party atmosphere. Len saw a man standing behind Ms. Yukigawa in the school corridor. He was very tall, taller than Tsuchiura but well-proportioned instead of lanky. The man possessed the same mud-dark hair as hers, with slight silvering at his temples. He also possessed striking green eyes, though his colour was pale, more glacial-ice. He had on a white sports jacket, dirty green-black jeans and a domineering demeanour.

"Leave your friends now, Kumi. I have to send you home before I leave for the station," said the man.

Len thought the voice had sounded familiar. It took him a few seconds to recall that it was the same voice, or closely similar, to the voice that had spoken in Ms. Yukigawa's cellphone before it was crushed by the roof door. Ms. Yukigawa nodded to the man and she bowed politely to the group.

"Sorry, I have to leave now. It's my ride," she said with a regretful tone.

A few exchanged goodbyes and great-to-meet-yous were passed around. Kahoko asked for Ms. Yukigawa's phone number, which she had to turn down as she was getting her phone fixed and her new place had not yet install a fixed line.

"But you know where I am. Best of luck for the results of your auditions!"

"Thank you. And study hard yourself too," smiled Kahoko.

Ms. Yukigawa turned to the tall man and they walked away together. She kept herself a few steps behind him in what was obviously a standard of long practise. The back of the man's sports jacket had the faded curved letterings of the words 'Moi's Martial Arts Middle-Weight Championship'.

The group watched as the two moved out of earshot and through the path towards the front door.

"She's pretty," said Shimizu, breaking the silence.

Tsuchiura gave Shimizu a fleeting look before adding, "And pretty nice. She'd probably excel well in the sport activities."

"She just transferred here in her third year," said Kahoko wistfully, "Her friends must miss her a lot."

That was when Hihara took the opportunity in the lull of the conversation to declare a trip to the vending machines. Shimizu agreed as a taker but everyone else decided to head for their homes instead. The group broke up and took off separately. Tsuchiura and Kahoko as usual walked together with automatically held hands, describing events they each have had about the auditions.

Len and Kaji walked ahead toward the main gates of Seiso Academy, leaving the two for their time together. After they passed beyond the faerie statue, Kaji spoke up.

"Hey, Tsukimori,"

"What is it?"

"You hadn't said a single word at all to Kahoko's friend. How come?"

Len tsk'd, "Why should I? I have no obligations to converse about anything with her," he said, "And she's efficiently could be entertained by all of you."

Kaji opened his mouth in the act of saying something but his mind must have changed somewhere. He sighed and simply shrugged his shoulders, "With you, Tsukimori, I guess it makes sense."

Len only humped. Of course, he did not address Ms. Yukigawa-, _Kumiko_-, directly about anything because there was really no need for it. In fact, she herself did not directly address him on anything either. Just as well, what was there to talk about?

"_Let us hope that we'll never meet again, okay?"_

Well, that had been a short prophecy. If she had kept herself out of sight, important phone call or not, Kahoko would not have spotted her in the first place. But then again, she had kept to her word as much as she could. She spoken not a word, as if they had no need to speak or meet even as close as within a group.

None of his business. Should not be his concern. Yet Len wondered why he felt a mild irritation over all that _nothing_.

**End of Chapter 10**

* * *

___Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile._


	11. Chapter 11

**Il Suono d'Oro**

**Chapter11: Trapped in **_**Pas d'Action**_

Unconsciously, Kumiko hummed the music within her as she combed out the snarls from her long hair. Her aching body felt luxurious, her arms pleasantly heavy and the steamy warm scent of light flowery perfume tickled her sense of smell. When she turned off the hair dryer, she could hear the conversation behind her more clearly.

"Hanabishi College is definitely competing, no question about it."

"Really? Let me see that."

"See? That's their group picture."

"Gosh. They always choose great music and got great team performances."

"Here's to hoping their solo pieces still suck."

A rustling of papers and a loud slurp from someone drinking from a juice box; Kumiko summarized that the latter action must be from one of the twins. She yawned, more from a lazy sense of drowsiness than any real fatigue. Quite the opposite, she felt ready to get herself back out into the studio's center floor and do more _jete's_ and _fouettes_. All day long.

"If Snowstar Academy hadn't declared that they were going to send in their own team, Toshima School wouldn't have felt challenged to do the same."

"Toshima's team is nothing. It's the Taisha Institute that got that Academy's reputation threatened. I heard that Taisha was going to send in the maximum number of members to the auditions and all of them are elite students."

"All eight? That's going to be hell on their group routine."

"There's impressiveness in large numbers, Little Sister. And more chances for them to risk in the solo audition."

"Oh wow, that's scary."

"Yeah."

A round of apprehensive murmurs. While pulling and tying her hair back, Kumiko rolled her eyes heavenward and continued humming. She was in the women's locker room of Jones's School of Ballet-, also affectionately nicknamed the Warehouse-, with four other girls; one younger, the twins that were her age and one older girl. Three hours earlier, the place would have been more crowded with 10 other girls, also washing up and changing into street clothes.

The ones left behind, including Kumiko herself, had to practise some extra hours to prepare themselves for the upcoming auditions. The girls were sitting on a long bench between one wall lined with sink and mirrors and the other with metal lockers. Hands moving automatically to fasten a clip to bun her hair, Kumiko regarded the huddled group from the reflection of the mirror.

Loud-mouth, short-curly browned haired Ayumu Kininobu was her closest and youngest ballet companion. And the worst dancer of the team. Though to give her credit, she was still one of the chosen ones and the Jones's School of Ballet possessed a strong 20-year track record of integrity. Her specialty was that she had a strong ear for music. No one can ever say Ayumu was out of rhythm.

The Kushiro twins were identical by birth, though not by nature. Miharu was the gentler, more serious, plain-looking girl who excelled better in the technicalities than her 10-minutes older sister, Hikaru. Hikaru was best left as wild and creative as the multi-coloured rainbow highlights she had dyed her once blond shoulder-length hair. Between the two of them, their split personalities kept each other and the rest of the school from being bored.

Only Asuka Sakai-, and on occasion, Kumiko as well-, disapproved of their constant sibling rivalry. About a year older, Asuka was the most mature, knowledgeable and dependable dancer, making her Kumiko's main challenger as the school's _prima ballerina_. Taller and leaner than average with a boyish cut short black hair, Asuka excelled in taking on male roles in recitals; lifting dancers and partnering for _pas de deux_ than taking female leads herself.

"So the biggest threat to us would be the Taisha group?" asked Ayumu, pointing to a group picture of said team as proudly showcased on the magazine.

Asuka was lying on her back parallel on the bench, reading an interview article. She rolled over before sitting up and waved to Ayumu another magazine, "No, I'm pretty certain it'll be the Hanabishi team. Folks are still talking about their _Paquita_ show."

"Yeah, but the reviews of Toshima's new duet stars' presentation last Christmas were raving. I'd say Ms. Futago and Ms. Hachijo are our biggest threat in the solo category," said Hikaru, in between loud slurps of her juice box.

Strategizing. At least, that was what Miss Miya said they were supposed to do. In actual fact, the girls had spend most of the time in the locker ogling the latest dance magazines and comparing articles-, both gossip and serious-, about other schools that were sending in their teams for the Association's auditions. Not that Kumiko had anything to complain; it might be for the best to learn what they may be up against.

She herself had not been keeping up-to-date since the middle of last year.

"Hey Kumi, aren't you done yet?" called out a bored Miharu.

Her hair was still a mess. There was no way she could tie it into her regular bun without the newly cleaned tresses silkily falling apart at every shake of the head. What kind of new shampoo did the girls brought in this time? Kumiko sighed and opted for the standard ponytail.

"What about the Reika school? Any word from them?" Kumiko asked from over her shoulder.

Through the mirror, she saw Ayumu take up another magazine and briefly browsed through it, "Reika, huh? Nope, don't think so. In fact, they're not sending any body at all, not even the Yunoki girls."

"Maybe we scared them," grinned Asuka. Studying the perfection of her nails, she continued, "After all we were the regular winners of the Association's annual dance-for-drama competitions year after year."

"You're deluded," pouted Miharu. She pushed her glasses up her nose as she stacked the other magazines into a neat order, "This school's reputation is not the thing that got all members of the Association abuzz about the _Swan Lake_ auditions."

She took out one particular magazine and airily waved it, "It's Kumiko."

As she packed her toiletries, Kumiko turned to see Miharu holding one particularly well-known gossip magazine. On the cover was Kumiko's own picture, dressed in her red finery, taken from her big win at a critically-acclaimed competition early last year. The main story within was headlined at the front, 'Return of Prodigal Daughter?'

"Hey, is that our interview last week?" squealed Hikaru, carelessly tossing her juice box into the rubbish bin. She missed, of course, but that was because the rubbish bin was already overflowing to a high heap of empty juice boxes rather than her lack of tossing ability.

But Miharu shook her head, "No, this is a different magazine. The one we had was real journalism, I think."

Groaning, Kumiko dumped the rest of her things into her bad and took out a well-worn cap.

"That magazine's a tabloid, Miharu. Nobody takes that article seriously," said Kumiko. She herself had read it and it held various nonsensical conspiracy theories about her previous long absence from performing with more leaks than a kitchen strainer. "You don't really believe what that thing was spouting, right? About me being the only dancer worth her shoes in a school pass its prime?"

When the girls traded loud gazes between them, Kumiko knew she had to speak before they give her a lecture. Or start fighting.

"Look, I'm a good dancer because I want to dance, not because I like competitions or the show business. Those were just big-sized opportunities. But no ballerina can express the story without the _corps de ballet_ nor could the lead perform _grand pas_ as well without having partners."

Asuka frowned, "Are you implying that we aren't good enough to be better than you?"

"I don't think that's what Kumiko meant, Asuka," blinked Ayumu.

How did that went out the wrong way? Kumiko tried again, "I'm just trying to say that I will always need you girls."

But Asuka still did not seem reassured, "Yeah, to make good-looking photo background for your big close-up," The older girl grabbed her bag and stood up with a scowl.

"It's still the same, Kumiko," said Asuka, "You were and will always be Miss Miya's 'little project'. It doesn't matter how long you've been absent from the Warehouse or why you suddenly popped back in here from out of the blue. She always favours you over any of us, and don't say you didn't know that!"

Hikaru jumped from the bench, "Asuka, please don't start,"

"She favours me as an old friend and only that," Kumiko struggled not to raise her voice. Asuka and Kumiko had not often exchanged strong competitive opinions, especially not in the recent months. Now that they no longer see each other at the old high school anymore, with her in Seisou Academy and Asuka working in her family's business, the older girl must had been simmering.

Kumiko metaphorically gritted her teeth, "Look, I'm staying for good now. All year. And we're all going to have places in _Swan Lake_, I'm sure of that."

Asuka turned her head away, "You're so blind, Kumiko," she said, "You're so sure that Miss Miya isn't playing favourites. Maybe you ought to stop closing your eyes when you hum stupidly,"

"Asuka!" gasped Ayumu, shocked.

Kumiko lost her temper then, "Are you so unserious about dancing that you think you'll never be good enough to _follow_ me?"

Stunned silence filled the room, left only by the slow droning of the ventilator machine. Asuka looked taken back. But with a haughty turn of her head and a strong push of the locker door, she left the place without another word, walking briskly and determinately. The others only watched her leave. Kumiko felt her insides contract uncomfortably. In less than five seconds, she grabbed her own bag and took off after Asuka.

Damn! Kumiko did not know why she should care. Why Asuka should care what the public was gossiping. But what made Asuka such a great dancer was that she was always a quiet observant with everything around her. But the effect also made that girl sensitive to its follies. Kumiko knew that exact feeling because…

Unexpectedly, she bumped into a tall woman as she was about to get out through the front doors. Luckily, due to her recent experiences with a certain blue-haired ice-man, Kumiko was able to stop herself from physically crashing into Miss Miya. Still, they both gave each other a shaken start.

"Ah, s-s-so-sorry," stuttered Kumiko.

"Kumiko!" cried Miss Miya, "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"No, there is something. I just saw Asuka stampeding out of the locker room and now I found you doing the same."

"Um, I got something to do quickly."

Miss Miya barked a laugh, "That I can believe. But Asuka would never run like that unless something was upsetting her. You know how she's always careful about her feet."

Then her face turned soft and seriously considering straight at Kumiko.

Kumiko gulped, "I'm sure it's nothing. Really."

But Miss Miya frowned, "Nothing. That's what a lot of people had been telling me lately around here."

Kumiko blinked. "Miss Miya?"

"Kumiko," the ballet instructor began, "If this 'nothing' was doing anything to distract Asuka's chances at the upcoming audition, you would tell me," she sighed, "Won't you?"

If Kumiko believed it would help without injuring Miss Miya's opinion of Asuka, she would sing like a canary, but she was not sure. Should she?

"It's all just stress. She... she wasn't satisfied with her solo music and manoeuvring yet," That was not true, at least not entirely. Asuka was so secretive that she had refused to even hint of her design.

'Oh? Is that it?" Miss Miya spoke in wonder, "I suppose that might be. The Association had a lot of expectations in the solo category. I'll see if I can talk to her personally then."

Kumiko silent sighed in a bit of relief. If Miss Miya could talk with Asuka, it might turn out alright. No matter how big the pressure, Asuka was too disciplined to rebuff any personal attention from their ballet instructor. Yet as she thought of that, a minute sense of unease sparked inside her.

But when Miss Miya turned to her and spoke with concern, the thought vanished to the back of her mind.

"And what about you, Kumiko?"

"Me?"

'Yes, you. As one of the team, I should be worrying about you too."

That was for all fairness, mayhap, "I'm fine," she cheered, "Today's practise and the after-practise was great. I'm really getting ideas for my own choreography."

"Only ideas? You mean you haven't even started?"

Busted. Kumiko counted herself lucky that she had not decided to pursue a career in judicial law. "Oh, I have! I've experimented with the steps I know I want to put in. I just need the right music and arrange those steps into a sequence."

"Hm-mm. Alright then. Do you want me to ask Mrs. Kaga to play a specific piece or something?" Mrs. Kago was the school's pianist-cum-janitor lady-cum-wife of the building's landlord.

Kumiko smiled, "Actually. I was thinking about a violin."

Miss Miya whistled, "Interesting. You heard something unique in Seisou Academy then?"

"Something like that."

"Well then. I do hope that you'll be prompt. I expect a full rendition by Tuesday night, okay?"

Kumiko nodded with more confidence than she had inside her.

She was about to take her leave but then Miss Miya placed a firm hand on her shoulder and lowered her tone,

"Kumiko, please be very serious for this audition. You need to give in your best shot."

Kumiko stared, blinked then bit the inside of her lip, "I have given my all and everything into this opportunity, Miss Miya."

"Are you sure? I think you can offer more," her voice carried a heavy weight. She continued, "Kumiko. I was so worried last year when you've disappeared all of a sudden. No one knew where you were. The Association was surprised that I hadn't included you in the rest of the competitions all last year."

Kumiko covered the hand that held her shoulder and gave it a gentle tug. "You know my brother's job. When he got transferred, I had to go where he goes," Removing her teacher's hand, she squeezed it with both her hands in an assuring gesture, "But I'm back here now. And I'm not leaving."

_Not yet_.

Miss Miya returned the gentle friendly grip, "I know it's a family issue so I had promised not to intrude," she said. There was a pause of breath before she continued,

"I just need to be reassured that there would be nothing else that might stop you or hurt you from this. I-,"

A pause, then a sigh, "I know I'm your teacher and I might sound like it's something I should say. But you really do have potential to greater heights. I've seen it when I first saw you so small at that old playground in those baggy pants and oversized T-shirt."

She blinked and then gave Kumiko a mischievous grin, "Of course, we need to work on your normal appearance someday. It won't do if you get famous someday but this is the kind of picture they all had to have to take."

Kumiko mentally huffed. Miss Miya was always so neat. Even on a Saturday, she was dressed in a black blazer and crisp office shirt as if she was, at anytime, going back to her day-job at a printing company. Kumiko just got out of the shower. But she wore her perennially messy long hair in a ponytail under a baseball cap and her brother's old baggy jeans that needed a belt 3 holes smaller sized.

She also had on an overlarge dark-chequered shirt with long sleeves rolled up to her elbows, loosely worn without the buttons over a tight baby-T with the words '_Warning: Contents inside are Extremely Hot_' sprawled across her chest, she was the very image of street punk. At least she opted to forgo her skates, tired as she was from exercising through half the day.

She sheepishly smirked, "Heh. I guess."

"Well then," smiled Miss Miya, "Since you're busy even on a weekend, I shouldn't detain you any longer."

The teacher turned towards the long corridor and gave her a good-bye wave, "Do study hard as well, dear. Healthy mind breeds healthy body and vice-versa, you know."

Kumiko watched as her teacher disappear to another corridor. She stood as long as she could, waiting for some else to show up. But neither the 3 girls in the locker, nor Miss Miya turning back for anything, nor Asuka maybe coming back in from the front door, nor Mrs. or Mr. Kago himself was around the area. Kumiko was for the first time in hours, completely alone.

The unease she had felt before came back to the front of her concerns.

She quietly opened the doors and saw no one on the streets. The vicinity where the studio was placed in was part of a set of shoplot houses in Soruku neighbourhood that had failed miserably to become a properly commercialized area. Most of these building were instead used as secondary or tertiary storage facilities-, including this school-, thus a whole row of 'warehouses'. They were poorly maintained, cruelly vandalised and what food businesses or auto-repair businesses or any other 'legal' businesses were all struggling to make a living.

The only extremely well-profited business around were the pawn shops. _And the drug cartel_.

Kumiko grimaced. Being a hypocrite does not suit her temperament, but ideals and reality were restricted by clearly defined lines when one lived in this world. Her switch was always at the threshold of the school. Dreams inside. Reality outside.

All else confusion. And confusion complicated survival.

She stepped out slowly into the sidewalk, cautiously peeking at the corner of her eyes to avoid looking too interested. The thing that she had been suspecting for was waiting on a far corner of the street; black, unremarkable, with tinted windows, 4 wheels and a driver. Kumiko debated on which way she wanted to turn; towards or away from it. Curiosity warred with her common sense. Finally, caution made her turn towards the vehicle, but careful not to take too much of an interest.

It was parked away from her and on the other side of the road. She passed a few shops, many stamped with either 'Evicted' or 'Out of Business' signs on them. Eventually, she passed the car and turned into the first stink-filled alley between the buildings. It had a very grim and dark but clear path through the block and open to the road on the other side.

Kumiko waited in the shadows for the black car to show up on that other road. When it drove closer and opened the passenger door, she nearly sprinted for it.

"Hey, don't slam it so hard," said the driver with an annoyed tone.

"Sorry. Bad mood today," said Kumiko. She adjusted her seat as the car drove on and out of the area.

"Wow, that's a first. I was planning that your practise today might butter you up a bit," said the shadowed driver.

"I had a very good practise," Kumiko crossed her arms and looked out through the window, watching the scenery, "I just left my good mood behind in the Warehouse, that's all."

The shadowed man snorted and turned toward the road heading for the freeway, "Look what I got ya." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, at the back seat.

Kumiko pouted for a second before turning to look behind her. She blinked when she saw a large cardboard box, the type used to transport large screen TVs. Peeking in, she saw the surprise and exclaimed a gasp of delight, "My kittens?"

Both of them, playfully rolling and gambolling over each other in their newspaper lined nest. The black one had grabbed one of the white one's back paws with its mouth and refused to release it. Her voice immediately brought her to their attention.

With the black kitten distracted for a moment, the white kitten managed to break free from the hold before it turned around and pounced its buddy with a noisy tackle. Both went rolling around in the box again, effectively ignoring Kumiko.

Kumiko felt a stirring mixture of both joy and pain flipped inside her, "I thought you threw them out or something. Mrs. Koganei said she never heard any sign of kittens."

The shadowed driver humped, "I thought I could sneak into your place easy, but..."

There was a long pause. From her experience working with the shadowed driver, Kumiko put two and two together, "Too dangerous?"

"Yeah."

Another long pause. Only when Kumiko recognized the familiar streets of the residential areas around her school did the driver spoke again, "We got some new competition."

"I've retired."

"I still need you."

"You said it yourself that I'm off the pack,"

"You did such a good last job that I realized I need to expand my empire."

"Then place an ad in the newspapers. Don't expect me to apply."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"How bout if I dirty dare?"

Kumiko stared at the driver. He looked at her straight in the eye, 'I can kill your kittens right now."

Dirty dare indeed. Kumiko knew that the man was capable of doing so without a qualm. He had done worse things before to humans. He grinned a Cheshire Cat at her, showing all clean white teeth.

"Stop playing and be serious," grumbled Kumiko. She continued to watch the little animals at play in their cardboard world.

"You think I wasn't serious about killing your kittens?" The driver patted the front of the dark trench coat he wore. Kumiko knew that it could hold anything from a gun to an army dagger.

"I think," She kept her voice from quivering, "That's you're more serious on not wasting bullets or making a mess out of your coat."

The man's mouth twitched for a second before he snorted and laughed. It was a good genuine laughter, the way he coughed and choked and still chortled. He did not often laugh and Kumiko knew that from the start.

"Okay, okay, you're right," he said, "Not with the stupid amount of cash I've spent on their vaccination."

Kumiko felt surprise built inside her, "You took them to the vet?"

"All the works. That's why you never got your last pay check, dear. Cats' got your cash."

"Heh. I was wonder why my mail box was empty."

"If you come back into the pack, I'll pay twice as handsomely."

Kumiko's face fell. Back into the pack. The dangerous business was a complete jungle where only the strong survive by preying on the weak. 'Packs' were what the various different groups called themselves. 'Wild dogs' were what the beefy bodyguards that protected the pack's secret hideouts, mainly because they kept mean and vicious dogs with them.

'Kittens' were what everyone called various black market merchandises that were being sold by the packs. Days ago, when Kumiko had said that there were new kittens on the loose, she really meant new drugs were being circulated in the underground. These were called kittens because they were produced by 'cats'. 'Cats' were the ringleaders of each pack. They also could stimulate the wild dogs into barking, jumping and clawing the ground in any direction as they simply sat high up on their windowsills.

Cats were also the hardest to capture. The shadowed man was obviously a 'cat'. Kumiko possessed a very different job at the bottom of the jungle.

"I won't be your runner anymore. I love my ordinary normal life," said Kumiko.

"I'm not asking you to be a runner anymore, Kumiko. I just need an advisor."

"How is being your 'little bird' any safer than being a 'rat'? And don't say just because I'm not needed in the field,"

"Because your little ballet teacher and your pretty little swan-sisters are going to be taken over by my top competitors, that's why."

Her heartbeat suddenly sounded too loud in her ears.

When she said not a word in response, the shadowed driver spoke, "This is not blackmail, nor is it a threat, Kumiko. Remember why you first started with me?"

Kumiko spoke as slowly as she could breathe, "Lesser of all evils,"

"Good girl," the driver said solemnly, "I'm not a good guy. My conscience isn't any less empty than my major competitors of this area. But I know how to leave clean footprints."

Eventually, the unremarkable black car pulled up behind a very long row of other waiting cars next to the train station. The shadowed driver positioned it into neutral and pulled up his handbrake.

"I don't hurt unnecessarily. I made sure my victims aren't too traumatized that they babbled too much and gave attention to the police. That my wild dogs-, and I know you hated those most of all-, are all super professionals with well cloaked backgrounds. And my buyers know just how to sanitize themselves after they drooled."

Kumiko sighed, "As long as the local population thinks that a pack made a secured fort in the area, your competitors won't dare to approach directly without risking their own business as well."

The shadowed driver snapped his fingers, "You've been reading too many mystery novels. Doesn't your brother ever tell you about too much fantasy?"

Kumiko tsk'd, "Just tell me what you want to know and I'll play your little bird."

And so the driver and Kumiko held a secret discussion. Mostly they concern the possible locations of where the new drugs might pop up next. Others included which of the competitors had the means to supply and distribute them. They both wrote no notes and mentioned no outward names, but they knew who, which, where and what that might be used to halt the growing influence of the competitors.

Half-an-hour later, Kumiko was outside on the train station's sidewalk at lunch hour, watching the nondescript black car drove off into the streets. Marshalling her thoughts, exorcising the last memories of her dialogue with her old friend, she turned toward the growing foot traffic, to the rows and rows of charming shop houses so much nicer and cleaner than the one where before she got into that black car.

Clean, safe and secured business areas. Here, there was no need to line the borders between ideals and reality. It's an ordinary weekend where everyone was doing their normal weekend shopping.

Dreams indoors. Reality outdoors. It was not always have to be that way forever right? Someday, maybe as soon as the ballet auditions next week, she would showcase the dreams she had kept hidden.

Yet at the present, Kumiko wondered at what state she was currently in, after stepping out of that man's car. An ordinary dream or an uncertain new reality?

_I didn't even say goodbye to the kittens_.

In her heart, no matter where she was, no matter how far she flew, it was what she left behind that was always at the foremost of her thoughts.

**End of Chapter 11**

* * *

_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	12. Chapter 12

**Il Suono d'Oro**

**Chapter12: Brand New Wings**

Her Big Brother never stopped her from reading mystery or fantasy novels. He devoured them too, even though he never had much time to read at the station, where he held a very high and very busy position. In fact, usually he brought them for Kumiko to read first, and then he would ask her on some of the spoiler details of the novel, a sort of cliff-notes to keep him from suspense. _Then_ he reads the books himself, as soon as he could allow himself to get disftracted.

Of course, Big Brother would highly disapprove of her buying comic books.

She tried to berate herself on excising caution and moref self-control on her new freedom away from her brother's care, especially concerning the merits between school books and comics books. Even so, Kumiko still brought two new romance-themed comics books on the favour that she these were the latest issues and she could not risk not being able to find them when she would struck by the urge to really need them.

Cheers for singlehood. She felt like she could live the lone ranger life forever. Still, her conscience pricked like a pebble in her shoe and so she also brought chemistry textbook and a history exercise.

So she could ignore them when she got home. _Kumiko, you're ridiculous_.

Through all the time she was queuing up and paying cash at the counter, she also berated herself not to look at the magazine rack. Last week, Miss Miya thought it would be a great time to start announcing the school's participation for the recital so she invited two journalists from the Association's local press for a complete interrogation of the team.

At least, Kumiko thought they were both journalists. The younger of the two was a female who looked about her own age and would not stop asking pretty dissecting questions, save to take pictures from her old-fashioned looking camera. When that interview was over, she was half-ready to boot that girl out of the Warehouse.

Now that the week had passed, the interview might have been published already. Or maybe it was slotted for next week. From all accounts, this year's recital, a series of Tchaikovsky recitals, had generated some big interschool interest around the country and the Association does not do major ballet recitals every year. The previous year was Chinese opera and the year before that was a lot of jazz music and dance.

If she does not read it, she would not know it and she would not care about it. Her feet dragged her to the magazine rows anyway.

But a saving grace had answered prayer against her impulsive instinct. Just on the other side of the racks was a large metal table stacked with familiar plastic cases. The bookstore was having a discount sale on music CDs. Curious, Kumiko headed over to the table, wondering why nobody seemed to be browsing, checking, taking advantage of the sale.

Classical music. And only classical music. No pop songs, no R&B, nothing from the latest billboards. Heck, the only vocals she could find were _a capella_ choirs. No wonder the table was ignored, what a shame. Kumiko adored them. To be honest, she adored all music, but classical music took her back to her early childhood. Back when she and Big Brother were a real family. And her parents…

An unpleasant cloud of queasiness passed through her vision. It brought a distant ringing, but instead of growing louder, it became fainter, taking with it all the other sounds around her until she felt like all sounds were going away, leaving her.

The same closing feeling she was struck with yesterday night. When she desperately needed to talk to Big Brother.

Instinctively, she clenched her fist and gritted her teeth. She steeled toward self-control and slowly breathed that pained sensation away.

"Miss? May I help you?" asked a salesgirl who noted her interest.

Perfect. Kumiko needed a distraction. "Yes, please," she fingered through the cases, noting names and pictures. "I'm looking for a song called _Devil's Trill_."

"Oh? Who was the composer, miss? And any particular instrument?"

This girl was apparently a sales specialist. Kumiko struggled to recollect that music audition the night before. From where she had been on Seisou's rooftop, she was able to hear the music beautifully but of the people's voices inside that gallery was too faint.

"It's a violin composition, I'm sure. But I'm not so sure who was the composer," she sighed.

With all marketing charm, the salesgirl beamed, "Aaah, violin. There's been a lot of requests for those in the last few years. Would you like one with the included music score?"

"Just let's see if it's available first, please,"

"Yes, miss. I'll check."

Kumiko did not know why she felt the way she did, but the _Devil's Trill_ music had felt perfect as her dance score. She had never heard it before the night of those university auditions, but it was absorbed into her mind from the very first notes. The salesgirl returned with a CD and a plastic smile, "Here you are, miss. It's not a commonly played music."

Kumiko took the CD and turned it over to see the list. Uncommonly played meant that the composer was not a favourite enough to have a lot of modern musician hanging on to his scores. A rare music would not be too bad. She finally found it at the bottom of the alphabetical order. Tartini, Giuseppe: _Devil's Trill_.

Well that answered the mystery of the composer. Kumiko's next mystery was how she was going to afford the CD. It was part of a very extensive compilation and even with the discount-, and that she had earlier spent her money on two comic books and two school books-, it was way over her budget, unless she stopped eating for the next 2 days or so.

"May I test this first?" asked Kumiko. There was a small CD player next to the innumerable stacks.

The salesgirl was predictably all too happy to anticipate a sale, "Of course." And in less than a minute, Kumiko was reviving the music that had haunted her.

It was, in many ways, a truly devil-made song. She listened passed the part where she-, her dearly departed cellphone-, had interrupted the blue-haired man. It was longer than how he had played it. Mr. Coldness must have excerpted from the original piece she was listening to at the moment. And it was different in other ways as well.

The music she was listening to was a complete textbook creation. _He_ played it with deeply buried emotions. The way it started slow and brooding, like an acidic tragedy. When the tempo started to build up, she could see the leaps and bounds like a combatant with dark passions, challenging the uncertain future by playing fire with fire.

"Hmmmm," she unconsciously hummed, "hmm-hmm-hmmmm," But the music she listened to was not the one through the headphones. Her memory, the song within, had never felt so clear. It took her some time to realize that someone was calling out to her and it was not the stone-patient salesgirl.

"Hey I'm calling you, you Hummingbird!" said a female voice behind her.

She turned around to see a smiling girl with light-wavy hair bound by a ponytail. She looked familiar. The way she confidently stood before her was familiar as well. Kumiko also felt a familiar-, and slightly uncomfortable-, lump in her throat. It was actually lucky to have that lumpy feeling because it prevented her from speaking first for she feared she might squeak from fright.

The girl's smile turned into a wide knowing grin, "Hah! I knew it was you!" she cried confidently, "Kumiko Yukigawa."

And Kumiko still remembered her. Loud, boisterous and dangerously nosy. Good with her camera and with particularly prodding questions. Sort of like her friend Ayumu, only 50 times scarier and much harder to get rid of. The only thing missing from her mind was the girl's name.

"Oh, hello, um, er..."

"Nami Amou!"

"Ah yes, that's right,"

"My, you're looking like a slacker today. I almost didn't recognize you without your leotard."

Kumiko silently groaned. She pushed up the long sleeves of her unbuttoned shirt and adjusted her cap on her head so her long hair was not straying all around her shoulders.

It was rare for Kumiko to meet someone she was so eager to say goodbye to, but she rather not be too disrespectful. She lamented that if she had played the CD player a little louder or later, she might have had a chance of properly ignoring Ms. Amou without looking like a half-wit. That hums.

She thanked the salesgirl for her service and declined to purchase the CD.

"So you're looking for your music audition?" asked Ms. Amou, looking over the stacks.

"Yeah," said Kumiko, gesturing. "Saw the discount sale. Thought I would stay a while." And now she must plan an escape route. She was thinking about it as Ms. Amou picked up a few of the displayed CDs and read their listings.

"Oh wow, these are pretty unique. Have you checked the ones you wanted to use for your big solo?"

If Kumiko said no, would this first-year journalism student, and proud of it, start to brazenly suggest some compositions? And even if not brazenly, how long would it take for her to get distracted enough by the discount CDs before Kumiko can quietly slip away?

"Yes, I've already chosen one," said Kumiko, with poise, "And it's to be a surprise." There, that should do it.

"Great!" Ms. Amou unexpectedly grinned, "I would really love to help you along with your selection. And maybe help your team along as well and you should know that I know some really good music pieces. _But_... I rather much prefer to show you this."

Into her hands, Ms. Amou thrust a brand new magazine. As Kumiko recovered quickly from the impact, she saw that it was the Association's official monthly. Not the weekly periodicals as other dance school interviews were published it but the actual, once a month, as named the _Silk Culture_, Tokyo Association of Culture and Dance's official magazine.

"The interview? Jones's School's interview?" Her head felt dizzy with confusion and disbelief.

"Of course. You know my journalist partner, aka my university senior? He's an intern at the Association's media team. I forced him to drag me along because I wanted to get some real case-study for my course's assignment."

The front cover of the magazine was a photograph of the main hall where the recital would take place. Ms. Amou proudly pointed to a small caption close to the top; 'Jones's School Team Interview: True Ballerinas'.

"Isn't it great? I got him to write more articulately on the history of your school and its creativity in always being able to perform any dance to any kind of music. And add more focus on individual backgrounds and personal aspirations. I'm so glad that he used my ideas. His bosses liked it so much that the article made it into the official magazine."

Kumiko rose a considering eyebrow. She had a feeling that Ms. Amou did not just _suggested_ her idea to her senior, but probably to his bosses as well, if she really had got her hands on them. Still, it was not a bad idea; quite good actually. It might get her team an influential lead over the other school. And the Association's magazine was of good reputation. If the interview was written well, it would wash off the gossip from that tabloid publication.

Smirking at the plastic-wrapped magazine, she returned it to the older girl. "That's really great and I appreciate what you and your senior had done for my school."

Ms. Amou did not take it back but blinked instead, "Have you read it yet? It just circulated yesterday."

"Read it? Well, no."

"Then you should buy it."

_Gulp_. "Umm, well, I'll buy it later, okay? I already know the facts so let someone else buy this so they can read it, how's that?"

"But I want you to read it. I want to know what _you_ think about the whole article."

_Oh boy_. "Actually, I'm short of cash."

"That's all? Let me buy it for you."

With lightning speed, she took the magazine out of Kumiko's hand-, "Let's get a fresh one. We've been holding on to this for such a while, we must have wrinkled a few pages inside," -, and ran over to the magazine rows to look for a second copy. Finally alone, Kumiko knew that it was an opportunity she could not pass up. To escape. She slowly backed away and kept her eye on the exit.

"Hey, Ms. Yukigawa. Isn't that you?"

Before Kumiko could take another step, Ms. Amou was rushing back to her with two items in her hands. One was the Association's magazine and, God forbid, the gossip tabloid that had her dancing figure on the front cover, in full elegant position, her body moved by hidden music. Ms. Amou herself had an expression of marvel.

"Oh yeah, that one," said Kumiko sheepishly. There was no way she would get out of this one. She regretted not simply running off for her life.

"Oh wow, wow," said Ms. Amou, "Wow, wow, wow," she could not seem to stop saying that word.

"It's full of junk, Ms. Amou,"

"I know! I usually buy this type to remind myself what not to write or how not to write but _this_..."

She turned it around, behind and upside-down, as if it might reveal more without tearing open the plastic wrapping. "Gosh, I really should have asked your team to perform so I could have taken a picture of something like this. What were you doing?"

"That was last year. A competition," said Kumiko.

"And?"

"It's called an _arabesque_ posture."

"A competition?"

"A competitive recital. Bournoville's _La Sylphide_."

"You were the star, weren't you?"

"Yes. Tragic ending."

"_And?_"

If she did not leave now, she knows that her rest of the day would be doomed. Personally, in all aspects, she did not think that Ms. Amou was a bad person. Just nosy. Like a nice old granny who lives just next door and insisted that everybody in the block calls her 'Auntie'. Then again, Kumiko had nothing else to do that day. And maybe spending some time with a media minded person might teach her a thing or two about avoiding them all in the future.

"I'm sooo going to buy this one!" said Ms. Amou. She picked the ends at a corner of the plastic on the gossip tabloid.

Kumiko sighed. Loudly. "Ms. Amou-,"

"Please call me Nami."

"Er, okay, Nami-,"

"Then let me call you Kumiko."

She almost bit her own tongue the second time this reporter girl interrupted her. "Look. Nami. How bout we share a couple of sodas at the ice-cream shop? As long as everything's off the written paper, I'll be happy to spend some time with you."

Nami Amou's eyes were glowing stars, but they faded too quickly as Kumiko could see her thoughts were being assembled, "Gosh, I'm with two of my good friends today,"

A new green light. Take it or regret it, "Oh that's too bad," said Kumiko, hiding her joy.

"But I know they'll love you."

Uh-ho. Green light was too quickly starting to blink on and off, "Please, don't let me disturb your day. I'm sure you have a lot of plans ahead."

"Not at all. My friends are music majors. Maybe they can give you some great ideas on your solo," smiled Nami.

No more green light. Now it was an ominous yellow light. Before Kumiko could stop her, Nami stood up high on her tip toes and scanned around, "Hey Kahoko! Shoko! Come over here, I want you to meet someone!"

The girl's voice rang through the bookstore. A couple of other patrons stopped and stared. Blushing, Kumiko decided that she was going to accelerate out of the area as fast as lightning. She turned to run but Nami stopped her by grabbing her arm, merrily grinning.

"Don't be shy! They've seen us. Come on, let me introduce you to them."

Nami pulled her arm and dragged her to where all the thick novels were. Kumiko spotted the backs of two girls at the end corner. She mentally girdled herself and tried to act dignified. After all, she knew to not fight a red light when she sees one. A slight tingling sense of apprehension crept up icily on her back. Wait, did Nami said that her friends were music majors? Did she call one of them _Kahoko?_

It could not be. No way!

But as the taller one of Nami's friends turned around to face her, all of Kumiko's nervousness became heavy wet slurry in her gut. It was without a doubt, Kahoko Hino, the red-haired violinist girl. She gave Kumiko a wide look of surprise before it was replaced by a pleasant smile.

The girl beside Kahoko was of light green-cyan hair and was giving Kumiko quick shy glances; as if she was afraid it would appear too rude to stare. Kumiko blinked and got a second to recognize the other girl. She had seen her by sight at Seisou music department. The girl was the clarinet player whose duet with a young cellist Kumiko had originally chosen as her solo music.

"Ah. Hello there," the clarinet girl spoke first. She had a nice voice, though somewhat too soft to speak conversely.

"Hey it's you, Kumiko," greeted Kahoko. She blinked then stared at her then blinked again. For once, Kumiko actually wished she had taken Miss Miya's advice and paid more attention to her clothes than hand-me-downs and bargain bins. Kahoko's and the clarinet girl's, even Nami's street clothes were tasteful and feminine.

"Um, yeah," said Kumiko, "So, you're all shopping for books?"

Kumiko's attempt at starting a safe subject screeched to a halt when Nami, coloured with her own surprise, questioned Kahoko how did she knew Kumiko's name. Kahoko mentioned a bus stop, a music audition and a long story; it was a combination that seemed to entice Nami's interest even further.

When Kahoko asked of Nami's connection, Kumiko knew that she had to brace herself as she was heading for a big crash.

"I helped write an article about her!" Nami proudly presented to them the Association's magazine and front cover glory.

Just when Kumiko thought she could not blush any harder, she did. Especially since Kahoko and the clarinet girl seemed a bit confused at the magazine. Nami should have explained it more specifically but Kumiko's jaw was dead-locked from speaking. Without completely trusting herself on what she might say.

"That's the main hall," said Kahoko, eyeing the details. "We performed Mr. Kira's inauguration concert in there 2 years ago,"

"Haha, sorry," grinned Nami, pointing to the printed caption article. "I meant to say that I've helped my senior make a non-Seisou interview for a real publication journal-," and with great drama, she took out the gossip tabloid-, "About Kumiko Yukigawa and her team of ballet dancers!"

Kumiko chewed on the insides of her mouth, wishing desperately that she had a gum or something to distract her from seeing Kahoko and the clarinet girl's mouth dropped open.

"No way! A ballet-a ballerina?" Kahoko held the tabloid as Nami dropped it into her hands.

"That's-that's pretty," stammered the clarinet girl.

"Yup, that's how I met her. And let me tell you, she was not as easy to open up and talk about herself as Len or Ryo ever was," said Nami.

Kumiko watched as the girls continued to stare at Kumiko's elegant _arabesque_ pose; one leg extended behind, very high at a 135 degree angle upwards and her upper body bend over with her hands hovering above the floor. It was a picture of grace; her red costume was a more traditional supported wide skirt than the smaller, stiffer tutu.

It was also a difficult position to do correctly. The photographer who taken it have had excellent timing. When Kahoko and the clarinet girl continued to study the picture, Nami became slightly annoyed and urged them to the other magazine, where her article-, correction, her _senior_'s article-, was printed inside.

"Wow, you look so different in the picture!" exclaimed Kahoko, still on the tabloid.

"Well, I don't perform all the time," huffed Kumiko.

"You're a Seisou student too, right?" said the clarinet girl. When Kumiko nodded, she continued, "I saw you last Monday. You had a bruised cheek."

"Monday. It was a Moooouunday," she said as if to emphasize all bad lucks on that day of the week. Kumiko rolled her eyes but checked herself when the clarinet girl blushed, for some reason.

"How long have you been dancing?" asked Kahoko, but it was Nami who answered.

"Since she was just seven years old. But she stopped for a while when she turned nine because her brother got another job and they both had to go somewhere else. When she moved back into the area at age 13, she picked it up again and that's when she started to win all kinds of competitions and recitals."

Kahoko could not seem to stop saying the word 'wow'. Kumiko wondered which of the two started the habit. But it was now or never.

"Well," she said loudly, and falsely stretched her arms skyward, "Since Nami had already interviewed me, I suppose you girls can always ask her-,"

"Oh I see what you're doing. Don't you think I don't know that you're trying to escape?" Nami latched on to Kumiko's arm as if she would never let it go again, "You said you were willing to spend some ice-cream time with me,"

Kahoko paused for a second before she exchanged conspiracy looks with the clarinet girl, "That's great. We can come with you," she smiled.

Kumiko gestured her hand, "No really, I don't want you to disrupt your plans on my account."

"We don't have any plans right now," said the clarinet girl, but then she continued with uncertainty, "Do we?"

"Nope!" cheered Nami. She gave Kumiko a wink, "We were getting bored anyway. Aren't you lucky to find us?"

Kumiko looked from Nami to Kahoko to the clarinet girl. They all seemed ready and eager to engage her to the ice-cream shop. And Kumiko wondered why she was resisting. Maybe she just was not used to a simple pleasurable outing. Her friends at ballet school never went out on girls' day out; they all had to help support their families at home or at shops. Soruku was just not the 'quaint, little place' type. Girls who tried to stroll around without male protection usually ended up as what was called 'ghetto bitches'.

Maybe this outing was okay. And they three seemed to like ballet. And Nami's interview assignment. Kumiko can always turn the topic to music. She would like that too. And she had yet to know the clarinet girl's name, seeing that she's a Seisou student like Kumiko. And Kahoko's a violinist. Maybe she knew how to play _Devil's Trill_.

Simple, innocent pleasures.

"Why not?" smiled Kumiko.

Holding on to her own purchases, she allowed herself to be herded toward the exit by the 3 girls. Maybe it was a good thing after all to just take a leap of faith in doing something. No red light, no crash. Good to have much of something good.

"Hey, isn't this a cheesy tabloid magazine?" asked Kahoko, suspiciously.

And in comes the speeding ticket.

**End of Chapter 12**

* * *

_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	13. Chapter 13

_Sorry for the lateness! My sister just gave birth to her second baby! He's born Ceasarian, on May 24 3.30pm (GMT+8) about 3.5 kg. No, he still hasn't got a name yet! Sorry for the delay! Hehehe!_

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Il Suono d'Oro**

**Chapter13: Playing **_**Con Affetto**_

Len had not much to do that cloudy afternoon except doing what he loved best. Within the private practise room of the university flowed the music of one of Mozart's _adagios_. Technically undemanding, he was warming himself up to try out for stamina, to play the entire length of the piece. Then maybe later, he would play another, longer composition.

It was a Sunday after all; he had no courses to attend, he did not wish to disturb his parents at home and had plenty of time for the rest of the day.

Unfortunately, it could not be said the same thing for his friends. Soundproof room or not, Hihara's knuckles banging on the door was no match as the pounding reverberated through the walls. And it was no mistaking Hihara; his voice was no less as loud as his hard knocks.

"Tsukimori? You're in there right? Open up! C'mon!"

Len cringed at Hihara's timing; he was just about to finish the closing bars of the piece. Ignorance was futile in this case, for of long experience, the trumpeter could only become more persistent the longer he was ignored.

As Len unlocked the door-, from the glass of the door, Hihara had all the look of excited anticipation-, he was iridescent with ire.

"Hey, Tsukimori-," Hihara began but Len cut him off with a bite.

"Have you no manners?" he snapped, but then paused with surprise as he noticed that Hihara was not alone.

In the large music building's corridor outside his room was a complete quartet. And a scene. Hihara had an open silver laptop in one of his arms. Kaji was gripping on Hihara's other arm which the hand had been knocking; his own stance was half-pulling, half-almost-stumbling.

Yunoki and Tsuchiura were walking not far behind the two; Tsuchiura looked as if he had come from a brisk hike. He slowed down upon sighting Len and gave the latter an apologetic grimace. Only Yunoki was slightly amused, strolling in their wake, as if the reason he himself had not tried to stop Hihara was because it was only a trivial matter.

Trivial matter or not, Len still wanted to scream at Hihara.

"What do you want now? Your conduct is unacceptable and I'm very busy at the moment," he said firmly.

Hihara's smile was a mix of joy and guilt, "Sorry, but I know you'll definitely want to be disturbed for this one. Let me show you."

Len frowned, "I said I'm very busy-," but Hihara ignored him with glee.

The man shoved the door wider to push himself in, nearly bodily shoving Len with his shoulder. He raced toward a black grand piano within the room and plonked the laptop on top of it. Kaji too went into the room but all of his attention was on Hihara. The blond man looked even more exasperated as Len wanted to be.

"Jeez, Hihara. That's not just my laptop you're running around with," said Kaji, "For freakin's sake, slow down. That cellphone's unsteady!"

Len frowned harder but none too soon both of the guys were joined inside the room by Tsuchiura-, "We tried to stop him, really. Sorry, Tsukimori,"-, and a smiling Yunoki-, "I'm following along for no reason. Just curious,"-. The small practise room was suddenly filled with five men. Len hated the crowd, even though they were his friends.

"What is going on here? And please be quick," said Len with irritated calm.

Tsuchiura huffed, "No need to be cantankerous," he said, "Hihara dragged me out of my practise too."

The fiend in question was drumming his fingers on the closed top of the piano, watching a serious Kaji took the laptop away from him and got busy. Along with the laptop was a Sony Ericsson cellphone attached to it by a single USB cable. The cellphone's screen was open; it had an animated picture of Earth with a satellite twirling around it.

Len put two and two together, "The university website?" Only new educational bulletin would have brought Hihara to Len by such an untimely approach. Or any approach at all for that matter.

"That's right," Yunoki nodded, "Kaji was surfing the internet at the faculty's cafeteria when Hihara and I came over for a late lunch. We thought we might see if there were any updates about Friday's auditions,"

"And there is," said Kaji, his finger fiddling on the touch pad, "Kamiya's team really work fast, huh?"

"Indeed. The violin concerto is the first one to be recorded. And in two months as well."

"Results of the violin audition?" Len could feel his throat went dry.

He moved to stand on Kaji's other side, though occupied by Tsuchiura. Tsuchiura being taller, automatically gave way to him, his own gaze was fixed on the laptop's monitor screen. Kaji's other side was flanked by Hihara and Yunoki. The moment of truth came sooner than Len had expected.

From the students' personal web portal, Kaji opened the newly updated special sections page, "There you have it," he smiled, "Haven't read the whole thing yet myself. I've checked the site earlier and there wasn't anything on it. This must have been updated barely 15 minutes ago."

The results of the audition were written in a clearly defined list. The chosen cellist for the cello concerto soloist was Shimizu Keiichi and his back-up soloist was a second-year university student. Below it were the names of other 6 cellist for the orchestra.

"Not bad!" cheered Hihara, but Len kept reading.

The next string instrument concerto was a viola. Neither of the chosen's name nor the back-up's name looked familiar to them.

"I guess I lost," groaned Kaji.

He sighed gloomily but Tsuchiura pointed to the list of the other selected viola players.

"You're part of the orchestra. That's a still a big achievement, beating out on some of the older students."

Kaji was only slightly encouraged, "Yeah."

Kaji scrolled down to reveal more of the results. The next list was for those who had auditioned for the brass instruments. The first trumpet player of the team was also a second year university student but the back-up trumpet player for the soloist was Kazuki Hihara.

Len turned to Hihara. The man looked speechless. Yunoki patted him on the shoulder, "Congratulations Hihara. Even as a back-up, it's still a great accomplishment. You'll be one of the very first to see an original composition."

When Hihara was still speechless-, in fact, he just turned pale and worrisome-, Len thought the man was being overly dramatic. He humped, "It's a slight mistake. His _Eine Klieine Nachtmusik_ had made the judges deaf and neither one could listen to the rest of the audition members."

"Hey!" Hihara finally reacted with annoyance. Len took it as small consolation prize for Hihara's earlier rudeness.

Tsuchiura grinned, "Well then, let's see your audition, Tsukimori."

His audition. Len had been using his flat calmness as a shield. Inside, he was almost boiling. Had that stupid girl's interference jeopardized his chances? He realized that he was standing too stiff and erect. He wondered if the other guys had noticed his body posture and silently breathed to direct all attention to Kaji's laptop.

_Violin Concerto: _

_Soloist - Len Tsukimori (please contact Mr. Alby at the Academic building for instructions, preferably before Thursday)_

_Backup soloist - ..._

_..._

Chosen. Len had been chosen. The constriction in his chest that was a pricking thorn slowly disappeared. Luck had been on his side. Luck and hours of good hard work. As he shot Hihara a stern warning before the latter could slap on his shoulder-, Hihara just closed his hand into a fist and awkwardly shook it hard in a victory cheer-, Len wondered about what the next line meant.

To meet with Alby? Of what reasons pertaining? The other chosen soloist had no written directives stated on the list to meet with anyone, Kamiya's team or otherwise. Len bit the inside of his bottom lip. It could be anything serious or trivial, more likely that since Kamiya was a violin virtuoso from the very first, and some level of standards had to be specified.

Kaji scrolled down to the rest of the results. Nothing else was much shown, except that all pianists and percussionists audition members would have their results out by the following day, Monday, and a good luck to all woodwind majors for the final audition that night.

"Too bad. Kahoko didn't become second violinist," said Tsuchiura.

Len blinked out of his thoughts and studied the list again, "She's part of the orchestra, though."

"Hey that's not right," said Kaji in surprise, "She's a good player. A magic wrapped in strings. And she had some experience as a concert mistress before."

"Gee, maybe it was the violin judges that had turned deaf?" commented Hihara, with all sarcastic seriousness at Len, which the latter ignored.

"It's not the quality, it's the emotion," said Tsuchiura, straightening up from his hunch back from the laptop, "It wasn't just skill. The violinist they were looking for the most part, had to match the spirit of the composition Kamiya had in mind. Joy, sorrow, vibrant, mysterious, etcetera, etcetera. You know."

He turned to Len and gestured, "You were with Kahoko, right? How did you think she played, Tsukimori?"

Len thought back for a moment, "Good. Light. Just as she always does," He knew he was being somewhat abstract but then he never believed in colouring actions with overused adjectives. Besides, they all know how Kahoko played when she play 'just as she always does'.

Tsuchiura shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "That's it. Her personality didn't match the Kamiya's vision."

"How did you know?" asked Kaji before Len could.

Tsuchiura blinked, "Well, he was at the high school that Friday. He showcased an excerpt of his compositions in the teacher's lounge and explained what he was looking for in each."

Silence filled the room but Len felt his more than anything else. Tsuchiura stared in confusion, "What you guys didn't know he was at the high school?"

He turned to Len, "I thought you and Kahoko noticed. I saw you two passed that same teacher's lounge from outside the door and-," his voice broke and his brows crinkled in concerntration, "Oh yeah. Kamiya was leaning his back against the wall of the door. I guess... you didn't really see him, huh?"

Len shook his head, "Kahoko and I met up with Kanazawa. He mentioned that Kamiya was with Kira at a sponsors' meeting," he frowned, "He did not mention if the meeting was at school though. Was Kira present at the teacher's lounge?"

Tsuchiura shook his head in negative. Then Hihara suddenly grabbed the pianist by the front shoulders, his eyes shining, "You... you heard Kamiya play hi-his concerto... before anybody else did?" he stammered.

Tsuchiura gaped at Hihara, "Yeah. He was addressing some specifics to the other pianists in the room-,"

"Which ones?" Hihara cut him off.

"Which ones what?"

"Which concertos? The trumpet?"

"Trum-? Oh no, no. The piano. It's the longest one and so it's the final project. He also played a bit of the violin concerto. That's the first one, after all."

"No tr-tru-trumpet?"

Tsuchiura sighed and gently pried Hihara's hands off his shoulders, "No, he didn't. C'mon, you're a back-up after all, Hihara. You'll be the only second person to ever see the entire piece. When it comes, of course,"

"I can't wait that long!" Hihara wailed.

"Anyway," Len began, taking control of the discussion, "Are you sure Tsuchiura? That you think Kahoko was not the right soloist?"

Tsuchiura blinked and stated, "It's not what I think. Kamiya said it himself that night, after he played. So I had some inkling that Kahoko just might not be the right soloist."

In other context, it was Tsuchiura's way of telling Len that he had suspected from the start that Len would lead the concerto. As expected.

"Aww, that's too bad," said Yunoki, ending the silence, "Kamiya's music must be really dramatic, if the judges think Len's style would suit."

"Actually, it's quite expressive," said Tsuchiura with a thoughtful look, "Though it might be sound moody if Len plays it."

"Moody? Oh my. I don't think Kamiya had ever played moodily. It might affect the overall performance."

"Would it be good moody or bad moody? It'll be a shame to start the orchestra project in a bad mood," said Hihara.

"Whatever the mood, I'm sure Tsukimori would play the dedicated concert master. Now, if only _all of us_ can play as moody as he does. I'm not sure if my own ears could stand him for an entire concerto."

Kaji started to tease but Len was gritting his back teeth, not caring if he looked discomposed by their teasing, "Are we all done yet? I have someplace to go now, if you please."

Hihara and Kaji laughed and jokingly apologized for interrupting Len. A quick assessment of their future locations-, so Len knew where to avoid them-, put Hihara and Kaji into the indoor basketball court for the remainder of the afternoon. Yunoki himself would be taking the bus and heading for Seisou Academy, where he and Shoko Fuyuumi would audition for their woodwind concerto. Tsuchiura had planned to meet Kahoko at the university's park.

Hihara and Kaji waved their cheery goodbyes and left the room as Len packed up his violin. After he clicked his case close, he looked up to find Yunoki smiling and waving to him a new music CD wrapped with a thin plastic ribbon and bow.

"I know it's two weeks early but I saw a sale at the bookstore next to the train station and so I brought you this."

He placed the CD next to Len's case, "Happy birthday, Tsukimori."

Stunned, Len paused in silence before he picked it up and studied the item. It was not a CD, but a DVD. The title on the case was Eternal Classics. From the front cover picture, Len immediately recognized it as Ritsu Kamiya and his violin, together with the Sinfonia of London Orchestra from a major performance last year. This must be the concert video that had just been released barely a week ago.

"I thought it might be useful for you. Especially now that you're the soloist for his concerto," said Yunoki, "Perhaps you can use it to study his visual performance."

Len inwardly smirked, "You didn't have to trouble yourself. I was planning to buy my own copy today."

"Hey c'mon, Tsukimori. Give Yunoki some credit," said Tsuchiura, eyeing the exchange. "Or would you rather he gave it to you while Hihara and Kaji were still around to see that?"

Len trusted himself not to answer. He muttered a polite thanks to Yunoki, who returned with welcome.

When the three got outside the building, Len was reminded of something from home.

"Speaking of my birthday," said Len to Tsuchiura and Yunoki, "I believe the two of you would be receiving a call, if you haven't yet already."

Walking alongside, Tsuchiura and Yunoki exchanged glances, "We've both already received it. Your mother, right?" said Yunoki.

"Yes. When did she call you two?"

Yunoki's smile was considering, "It was just before the last Music Theory class. The one where we had a quiz."

Yunoki turned to Tsuchiura, "Tsuchiura and I were the only ones in the room, to study while waiting for class to start. That's when his cellphone rang. After his call ended, mine rang as well. So pretty much, we both knew at the same time about your birthday plans."

Tsuchiura gave Len a falsely smug grin over Yunoki's head, "I still get shaken just thinking about it. Misa Hamai personally called us to participate in a society gala."

Len humped, "It was my parent's idea. Not mine. It's more of a social event for charity than anything else."

"In conjunction with your birthday,"

Len tossed Tsuchiura a hot glance, "That has nothing to do with me."

"It's on your birthday, old man."

Len ignored them both, but Tsuchiura was not done having the last word yet.

"Will everybody have to sing the Happy Birthday song?"

"Only if there might be a big cake," Yunoki quipped in as well.

"Do we sing happily or moodily?"

"I think Moody Birthday had such an interesting tune, don't you think?"

"_Enough_," Len hissed with menace and the two ended with barked chuckles.

Len took the momentary silence to consider the event of his birthday. But the silence did not last long. For within the air floated a brilliant sound. The three of them were walking along the sidewalk of the road that was between the main university buildings and the faculty buildings. Around them were the green parks of the campus, flourishing with spring blossoms.

Technically, the music in the air was very familiar to Len. It was the same piece he had played not 48 hours ago.

Beside Len, Yunoki commented, "My, what a nice _Devil's Trill_,"

It came from the park. The music building was on a hill; the park was a large field bordered with jogging paths just beyond a decorative metal fence. There were not many people in the park; though it was not yet dark, the sky was tingled with the promise of a good-sized shower. From Len's viewpoint, he could see the half of the park below him, but not the violinist.

"That sounds like Kahoko. She said she would be at the park," said Tsuchiura, also looking.

The music smoothly ended, but the player was still unseen, unfound. The three soon approached the entrance of the park. Yunoki turned to Tsuchiura.

"Well then, Tsuchiura. We shall see you-," he started to speak but his words were cut off by a loud screech. A loud painful screech, not too far from where they stood. Then came another and a third followed. Any music major knew that kind of screech all too well. But after it was abruptly silenced, a burst of feminine laughter erupted. A second laughter, a different person, also broke and between the two, there were many giggles and chortles.

Voices were heard from beyond the pine-bushes near the campus river.

"I'm sorry. I think it doesn't like me at all," said one familiar voice, half-laughing.

"Oh no, it's all in your right hand. Just be gentle," said Kahoko's voice.

There was a momentary silence. Then a louder, even worse screech, almost like a scream. The girls laughed again. Ms. Yukigawa's next words were apologetic.

"Let's stop, please. I much rather be dancing, if you know what I mean."

"Alright, I'll play one last time. I have to meet someone later," said Kahoko.

"Same here. And it looks like it's going to rain soon."

Yunoki smirked at Tsuchiura, "It sounded like Kahoko has made a new friend."

Tsuchiura threw him a pointed glance, but then sighed audibly. Len supposed that he too knew about the risks of much time spending between two newly aquatinted females. "Kahoko knows I'd look around here to meet her. She hadn't mentioned any change of plans."

Len barely heard them both. He wondered why Kumiko High-School-GE-student was on Seisou University campus, other than possibly torturing Kahoko's violin. And he wondered for how long. Granted, his own interest toward the girl that had nothing to do with his business somehow irked him but their track record at meeting cordially had not been spectacular. He himself was going to the Academic building to look for Mr. Alby. Kumiko crossing his path was like a black cat of bad lucks.

Music, soft and smooth flowing, once again lifted on wings. He entered the park-, ignoring Tsuchiura's and Yunoki's glances-, and followed through the jogging path and the sound of the melody. The neatly trimmed row of bushes soon gave way to the sight of the large square with a fountain in the middle. Most of the area was empty, save for two girls close to the fountain.

Kahoko was playing the violin; her music drifted and sang gently, but her tempo seemed somewhat crooked. She played well enough, but she was undoubtedly distracted. Other than playing, she was watching another girl nearby. The other girl was dressed in black loose slacks and a plain brown sweatshirt, but her pinned-up hair betrayed her identity.

Len would not have recognized Kumiko without that prim, old fashioned hairstyle she always wore. Because in this scene, Kumiko was... spinning.

That was the best word Len could describe in that instant. The girl had both her arms curved and held at chest level. Her back and neck was as straight as a cast iron and her body was turning and turning continuously like playfully spinning top. She was standing on her toes in dark coloured slippers with ribbons; both feet with turning and moving so fast that it was blurring of which tiptoed foot was turning and which was propelling the body.

As Kahoko played her notes, Kumiko danced to the rhythm. The violin slowed and so did her feet. Kumiko ended the spin by raising one leg high behind her and curved her arms and shoulder backward her as if they were outstretched wings and she had landed gracefully from a brisk flight.

Kahoko watched the dancer with wide eyes as her fingers automatically continued to dance on the violin. But instead of continuing, Kumiko straightened herself to a normal standing pose; she even crossed her arms and gave Kahoko an exasperated sigh. Kahoko blinked for a moment and then noticed her mistake; she was playing too slow, her focus had been on Kumiko's dancing instead of her own playing.

She grinned sheepishly and looked away from Kumiko, giving all her attention to her instrument. Kumiko smirked at Kahoko and moved into position. Right on the note, she pushed herself across the floor and started to leap like a deer on a chase, followed by a series of a fast jump-spin trick executed as she made a wide circle around the square grounds.

Her dance ended close to where she started in the same pose as her earlier stunt; arms curved backward, one long leg high behind her.

Yunoki's comment broke into Len's emersion, "That's quite a graceful dancing," he said, "If those were what I think it was, Kahoko's friend must be a ballerina."

Tsuchiura paused to watch Kumiko execute another move before he asked, "What did you think what were?"

"Her moves," said Yunoki, "Those earlier spins of hers were correctly performed _pirouettes_. And those large jump-spin were called _tour jete's_. It's a ballet execution."

Tsuchiura whistled, "How can you be sure? Hey, don't tell me you did ballet before."

"Why? Would it surprise you?"

"Hell, yeah... well, not really. I'm not sure but with _you_, Yunoki. I think it could be possible," Tsuchiura shrugged.

"Well, I never did any ballet," said Yunoki with amusement, "But I have two sisters who used to be experts in their own right and they practised often for competitons. There were numerous times when Miyabi asked for my help in judging her positions."

"Absurb," said Len, watching intently, "That girl is too clumsy. She could barely even skate well."

"Oh, so she's that girl who had surprised Hihara and the two of you the other day?" wondered Yunoki. He gave Kumiko another thoughtful study, "Well, skating and ballet are different. And I must say though, that she is particularly graceful to look at."

He gave Len a smirk in answer to his disbelieving frown, "Don't you agree?"

Len humped. Strange to say, Yunoki seemed to possess some merit in his observation. Ballet was not Len's strong suit. Yet almost everything in Kumiko's movements was smooth and flowing. Her arms moved in every way that was musically symmetrical with the motion of her lower body. Even her face was expressive, ranging from between pure joy to intense concentration.

Before Len could answer his opinion, a sudden flash of light broke between the cloudy skies. It was all too quickly followed by a loud crack of thunder; first loud and then its echoes rolled into a departing faint. No sooner had the thunder ended, large drops of water started to fall.

"As predicted," said Yunoki airily. He opened his umbrella. Len too possessed one and did the same.

"Oh crap," said Tsuchiura, but Len did not think the curse was directed toward the heavens for the third man possessed his own umbrella for cover.

Before them, the girls had instantly stopped their actions. They raced to where the left their things on a stone bench. Kahoko was speedily putting her violin away. Kumiko had bend over to her feet, taking off her slippers. But neither of them looked like they possessed an umbrella. From behind Len, Tsuchiura raced pass him with his open umbrella. The rain was falling harder than expected. Unlike a spring shower, it felt more like the beginnings of a torrential storm.

Tsuchiura caught up with Kahoko and Kumiko and called out to them. The girls smiled as they greeted Tsuchiura but Kumiko's face fell too quickly. It was obvious that Tsuchiura's umbrella was not big enough for three.

Len could not hear their conversation over the rising noise of the rain but from Kumiko's hand gesture, it was apparent that she had declined their offer to crowd under the umbrella. Len caught the word, "...difficult to walk together..." but not much more.

Tsuchiura then waved to Yunoki and Len, imploring for gentlemanly assistance. Len found himself taking a step forward but it was Yunoki who had moved faster. With his umbrella, Yunoki smiled to Kumiko and immediately shielded her from the rain. Kumiko saw Yunoki and seemed to have been struck by a bee. In her mouth.

The girl was shamelessly gaping, as unsurprisingly as the man does posses an appearance that made female drivers stop and stare before nearly crashing. Yunoki only gave her his signature charm said something. Kumiko blinked and closed her mouth into a stern line, though her blush remained.

Her gaze then caught Len's and her eyes grew wide. Kahoko saw Kumiko's expression and followed her line of sight. She cheered and waved at Len, calling out something he was unable to distinguish from the sound of the pouring rain. Kumiko, on the other hand, turned away from him. Yunoki then engaged some attention to her, saying something that made Kumiko blush again. Tsuchiura and Kahoko must have heard it, for the both laughed heartily.

Len glanced at Kumiko but she was still turned away, ignoring him and not returning his gaze. He debated whether or not to join the group. He mentally searched though his agenda and outlined the grounds of why he should or should not. It took him an instant to find one reason to trump all.

He waved back at Kahoko and the others and nodded his goodbye. Then he turned away and continued down the path to the park exit.

**End of Chapter 13**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	14. Chapter 14

**Il Suono d'Oro**

**Chapter14: What to Convey... **

The university's Academic building was the second oldest building on campus. This was the headquarters where most of the day-to-day administration and a few of the student affairs were discussed and held. Len wondered why the thinking half of the orchestra project would be situated there and the practising half would be placed in Seisou Academy. It could be anything from legalities to rental costs to space availability. He only hoped that the system was well thought of.

He entered the reception area and inquired to the lady behind the desk. The Kamiya project, as it was better known as, should be situated in a separate building adjoining the main one. The lady mentioned that there has been much activity going on that included new electrical equipments going in and the odour of cleaning liquids emanating the area. Len decided that he was heading in the right direction.

The separate block on the building grounds was the previous music faculty building, much smaller and less modernized than the current one. The rooms and windows were smaller. Nowadays, it had mainly served as a large storage house, though the unconfirmed rumour on campus was that some students would sneak in through one secret window with their partners to indulge what was politely termed as 'necking'.

The front door was unlocked. It made a creaking sound as Len pushed it open. The entrance hallway was empty save for a few boxes full of items but was well-lit with soft florescent lights. There was a long side table against one wall. A few cardboard boxes were stacked outside the corridors from every which way he could see. One room nearby had an open door and a sound of a person grunting about some heavy object.

Len took off his shoes and placed it on the shelves of the entrance area before he turned toward that room. Inside the doorway, he found Alby with a shaky armful of what looked to be old trumpet pieces. He caught Len's eyes and his grew wide.

"Oh hey, kid!" he cried, "Make way, unsteady stuff here,"

Len quickly gave the man some ample room to manoeuvre. Juggling the pieces against his chest, Alby carefully dropped them into an open box on the floor. The man swiped the sweat off his brow and turned to Len.

"Hey there. Haven't I seen you last Friday?"

After Len nodded, Alby walked into the room and gestured Len to follow him.

"I thought so. Tsukimori, right? Misa Hamai's violinist son?"

Len felt a mental irritation build up that made him inwardly grit his teeth but he only nodded again. Even though he was sure he kept his expression emotionless, Alby must have sense something in his stance.

"Aaah, don't look so stiff. It's wonderful to be so closely connected with such a great master," he grinned, "Her piano is always so pure. I often use her music as a standard for example whenever I play my violin."

Purity of play. Len knew that was the truth of his mother's music. Her sincerity towards her instrument was the foundation of all her music but what made its special build-up, what he had discovered not so very long ago, were the living experiences that coloured her feelings. Len had seen that in another, younger female music player. They both had a certain magic within them and neither had any qualms of being so exposed in their music.

In the past, Len resented the gift his mother possessed which he did not, dared not, reach for. But that was before. Nowadays, he already knew his own vision.

"Yeah," Len simply answered.

Alby beamed with cheer, like he had expected the answer, "Alright then," he began, "I supposed that you're here because of the audition results."

"I understand that you wished to see me as soon as possible," said Len.

"Not so soon as this though. Still, glad to see you're prompt."

"I see... that you're somewhat busy, Mr. Alby."

Len scanned the office room. The floor was clean and free of debris. The centrepiece and only furniture other than an office chair was an oversized old-fashioned wooden desk but it looked sturdy. On top of it was a small printer, a sporty-portable laptop, a single pen and they were surrounded by stacks and stacks of papers.

Coloured, plain white and aged yellowing ones; written, illustrated, spreadsheets, and music scores. Some neatly stacked, some in a messy state, some were even folded into shapes of origami animals. Only the ones in the printer tray looked brand new. There were also magazines on one corner and unfolded newsletters on the other. The mess were practically overwhelming the desk until not an inch of its wooden surface could be seen.

"Heh. Busy is an understatement," huffed Alby. "This room used to be a broken instruments' dump. Now it's my office for the year's duration. Kamiya will also work here whenever he drops by so I really need to make this place look as good as if it's my own studio in New York."

He gathered some sheets of paper he has left on his chair and slid them into a large brown envelope.

"The problem is that I've seemed to have brought along half of my studio with me," he sighed.

Len assessed the situation and inwardly felt halfway between dispirited and concerning. He offered to leave and return at a more convenient time but Alby shook the offer off.

"Actually, it is better that you're already here. I don't want to get distracted by the cleaning job till I forget," he said "And besides, I really can't let you go out in this weather."

Alby waved to the window and its dilapidated grey curtains. Outside, the rainstorm poured, turning the parking lot behind the building into a black lake of puddles. For a moment, Len wondered if Kahoko, Tsuchiura, Yunoki and that girl managed to safely get to a warm and dry place. It looked as if the April month was trying to exhaust the rest of its showers that afternoon.

The other thought that went through his mind was if Alby might suggest he aid the older man in manual labour. Len was not opposed to clean hard work. It was the injuries that might occur even in accident. Noted, when Alby had been carrying and steadying brass pieces in his arms, Len's fleeting mental reaction was if any hidden sharp edges might had cut the violinist's fingers.

Instead, Alby slapped the dust from his hands with ease and took up a few sheets of paper from between a pile behind the printer. He handed then toward Len.

"Here. Consider this as a little post-audition judging," said Alby.

Len took the papers with a raised eyebrow, "Post audition?"

"Indeed. Though you have been chosen," Alby began, pushing a tall stack gently aside so he could sit on a corner of the desk, "it was mostly on the merits of Ousaki's recommendation. I had some dissatisfaction on some aspects."

Len blinked, "Which part of my audition was lacking, sir?" he asked with all seriousness.

It was rare to find someone who was ever dissatisfied in any music Len performed. But never was he immune to any faults he may have had in his playing. Skill wise, that is. If Len winning the soloist part had been influenced of being who his mother was, Len's opinion of Alby's professionalism would drop significantly.

But the man just scratched his head with a sigh, "Let's just say that the sudden interruption that night had some affect in my concentration, that's all."

Mentally, Len groaned a curse. Damn that woman.

Alby continued, "I'm going to ask Kanazawa to rubber seal those windows and increase ventilation into that gallery. And get all non-members out of the roof and floor during practise. I'll be damned if _I_ get a cellphone interruption."

Len could agree no less. He turned to the papers in his hand. All of them were printed on one side with music scores. Other than the scores itself, the paper was unmarked. Nothing about the name of the song or its original composer. Not even numbered digits at the bottom of the page.

Len studied the first bars on the only paper with the number '1' at the bottom but found the melody no resemblance to any in his memory.

"If these scores are unfamiliar to you, Tsukimori, then that's okay," said Alby with a pleased smile, "That also meant that our team's PC security is tight,"

"Are these Mr. Kamiya's?" asked Len. He could barely keep the anticipation contained within him.

"The one and only," grinned Alby, "Of course, it's not the whole thing. Just the first movement."

With the scores in his hands, Len tried hard to give most of his attention to Alby's next instructions. Something about the full composition would be presented to Len and his back-up soloist a full hour before the rest of the orchestra for the first practise that coming Friday and all scores must be returned by end of practise. But all the while, his awareness was impinged by what to most people were just simple ink and papers.

To Len, this ink and paper piece was a holy grail. Music birthed by the thoughts of its creator that would soon be brought to life by Len's delivery. His violin.

"I understand, sir," said Len firmly, after Alby finished, "And what is my post audition with this piece?"

Alby casually grabbed a large paper pile and start to pat the sides into order, "Except for the first page, those scores are unnumbered and out of order. And you've never heard them before. I'm going to give you a few minutes to arrange them properly."

He cocked his head to the side and pointed a glance to the violin case Len carried, "I had expected that you would bring your own instrument, though I had another violin ready just in case. Yours working?"

After Len nodded, he got up and with the papers in his arms, Alby turned towards the exit, "Please use the music room in the other corridor if you wish. I'm going to clean up a little more before I check on you."

"Yes, sir."

Len made to follow behind him. But slowly, the man paused at the doorway of the office room. He turned and gave Len a somewhat serious and considering look, his eyes sharp with subtlety. Len straightened himself to attentiveness and returned the gaze questioningly.

"Take note of this, Tsukimori. The team has the right to replace or demote any member of the orchestra if Kamiya or I or Ousaki feels that if it's not up to standard," said Alby.

Len had expected Alby to take this tack at some point, "Yes sir. I believe I can perform this skilfully."

But Len's words seem to have made Alby's gaze turn narrower, more piercing, "I didn't mean your skill level, Tsukimori."

Astonished, Len blinked and kept silent. After a pregnant pause, Alby continued, "I mean your overall performance. You may be just a university student but I believe you do understand the expectation of this project is very high. You only have two months to prepare for the whole composition with the other members and I'm not talking MTV crack-rap songs here."

"This project for Seisou had been in planning for over a year. You are the current concertmaster for this concerto which I have been offered to conduct. I've accepted it and I expected a partnership. Not another flyboy who thinks this is his glorious chance at a major playoff. Do you understand, Tsukimori?"

All of Alby's words carried solemn weight. It was both a challenge and a statement. In between the lines, Len could see that what Alby meant was that the first concerto of the project-, the concerto Len would lead-, would be the fundamental groundwork that would prove or disprove the long awaited initial expectations. It would be a standard for the rest of the concertos yet to come.

Len accepted the test, "I understand, sir," he said and then added, "And may I ask for the same level of commitment as well?"

Alby smirked. He looked both pleased and resolute, "Heh. Kanazawa warned me you might be a sweet to work with," he grinned before exiting the room, "Just don't make me regret wasting my vacation, okay kid? Now go study."

Watching his back as he left, Len huffed cynically. He could almost understand Alby's feelings and appreciate the attitude. What comes next was to going forward.

He gathered his things and left the office. Near the entrance chamber, Alby had placed his papers on the long sidewall table, busy separating the stacks into 3 neat sections. Len checked next door to the office, which was the empty music room. Inside looked clean and slightly smaller than the practise rooms he was used to in high school. There was an upright piano against one wall, with a note cellotaped on the front that said 'Out of tune. To be checked later'.

Len closed the door and placed his violin on the piano. And contemplated the composition. He checked the first page, its opening bars and its measures. Absorbed himself in it the same way one would with a new book or a new video game. In his mind, he recognized every note and its corresponding tune. In sequence, they formed a visual representation of, indeed, a somewhat complex piece.

Halfway through, by the amount of double stops he found, Len wondered if Kamiya had been directly laced with caffeine in his system during its composition. It was, in much sense, a tempting challenge.

As he calculated the speed and dynamics of the play, he noticed something out of sorts. In arranging what believed what the supposed progression, the last page had an unfinished feel. Granted, it was only the first movement but to Len's experience, it more a sudden halt than a descending closure. He re-arranged the scores and checked again, got his violin out to test them properly but the conclusion still had the same question mark.

Had Alby forgotten to give him the last page? Recalling the man's last words and his serious demeanour, Len would bet his little finger-, on his right hand though-, that Alby might have done it on purpose. Tricky joke for a post audition. Then again, by the mountain of paper sheets on the man's desk, Alby must have just accidentally misplaced the last page.

All he needed to do was ask. He got up and proceeded to the door. Upon opening, he caught a strange sound coming from the next room. In the office room. Someone was humming in the office room. What made it strange was that it did not sound like Alby. This person's hum was light and had a higher pitched. A girl? More than just that. It was also the melody she was humming. Len was sure of what it was she was making under her lips.

The closing bars of Kamiya's concertos.

Footsteps treaded across the hallway. Len poked his head out in time to see Alby's back enter through the doorway.

"Ah, Yukigawa! _Bonjour ma petit_," Alby's voice cut through the tune's reverie.

"Hey _mon ami_. Great to see you again," said a none-too-foreign voice.

"Hm-mmm? What did I tell you before? _Parlez-vous Francais?_"

A sigh, "I'm... a bit rusty. Sorry, but I haven't been conversing-"

"Ahem, _s'il vous plait. Comment allez-vous? Va la sante?_"

Another sigh, more like a groan, "_Assez bien, merci. Il fait un temps affreux_."

Len blinked in surprise. Apparently, it was a day of discovering the mysteries of Ms. Yukigawa's talents. First dancing, now French. The next question was what the heck was _she_ doing here? And of all things, Alby and her seem to know each other well. Well enough to communicate familiarly.

Len peeked through the open doorway. Inside was Alby with an unstrung cello in one arm and his free hand was shaking in greeting with Kumiko. Kumiko was sitting on the wheeled office chair; she had pushed it to the other side of the table, facing the window and away from the door. Her sweatshirt was still dark with raindrops; her face was still red from the outside cold.

Neither seemed to have noticed Len. Alby chuckled, "_C'est bon. Que concluez-vous de ce fait?_"

"This composition?" One of Kumiko's hands held a single piece of paper. She glanced at it for a second and then returned the man's smile uncertainly, "Umm, er, it's a _musique de chamber_ I guess."

"Close enough. Rusty, huh?" said Alby, "We'll work on that later."

"Ah, _cela ma fait de la paine, mon ami. Laissez done_," she sounded slightly apologetic.

"Hey, hey, practise makes permanent. I think you might know Mr. Kanazawa. He's used to singing in Europe. _En derniere resource je le lui demanderai_."

Len could not help but wonder who this girl that seemed to be everywhere. On the floor in front of the door, Alby's silhouette grew larger. Len backtracked into the music room just as Alby turned to enter. In one hand, he held a single page and waved it to Len upon catching his sight.

"Tsukimori," he nodded, "I suppose you've guess that you've missed this? I'm sorry, my bad. Must have misplaced it on the table."

Len took the paper and gave it a brief look, "Thank you, sir."

The man did not leave but closed the door behind him. He nodded in appraisal to the other papers Len had already laid out in order on the piano. "Are those in the right place yet?"

Len nodded in positive but Alby moved his way to assess the scores himself anyway. His brow crinkled with a brief concentration, but was quickly appeared to be satisfied.

The moment he heard Kumiko, curiosity tickled within him. The slight pause in the soundproof music room now made it poke his insides. It was totally none of his business but...

"Mr. Alby. Who was that girl just now?"

"Hm?" Alby looked up and glanced at the door almost expectantly, "She's a long-time friend of my ex-wife. Taught her some piano before I decided she'll never have the discipline to sit still. Why you ask?"

Len humped, "Just wondering. Is she part of the Kamiya project?"

"Ah, noooo. I'm part of another project in progress here in Japan. She's interested in it too and so she's calling in a favour I owe her."

So. It was just for a friend's favour. Len picked up his violin.

"I'm ready for the post audition, sir."

Alby nodded and gestured to Len toward the scores. As Len placed the last section of the piece at the end of the order, he glanced up to see the man open the door slightly and slid in a door stopper. Catching his eye, Len raised an inquiring eyebrow. Alby just grinned.

"It's okay," said Alby in a light whisper, "She'll be able to hear it."

"She?"

"Yup. This is an excellent opportunity to seek her opinion."

When Alby did not explain further, Len juggled between pressing him and simply ignoring it. Normally, he should not have bothered who was listening. He already got the part, he was going to play a Kamiya original and do it in front of an experienced virtuoso who would be the orchestra conductor.

Yet, it was this girl... why her opinion? Why _her_ anyway?

Along with these thoughts, Len wondered if time had rendered him transparent in some way because Alby's next comment seem to suggest that he was reading Len's thoughts.

"Hear me out. I know this girl for some time. She's working on some really important registration forms right now. So as a non-affiliated individual, she's perfect."

"Do you want me to...?" asked Len, faltering. With his surprise growing by the moment, he could not properly assess the action.

"Just distract her," said Alby cheerily, which made Len mentally go blank.

But then his tone lowered and Alby gave Len a considering gaze, "Tsukimori, each of these composition possess a vision. A spirit. Your job is to find it and express it correctly. If your playing is synchronized harmoniously with the spirit of the piece, you'll achieve the goal."

His hand gestured to the partially open door, his lips smiled crookedly at Len that had little to do with amusement, "Think you're up to it? This post-audition?"

Distract her. With his violin.

What did Alby think he was, the Pipe Piper of Hamelin? Len huffed at the sudden twist of fate. It does not matter. _She_ was not part of the project. In anyway. Len was sure of that. Alby was only pressuring him to do his best. Conductors always demand the best for their concertmasters.

Still... the spirit of the piece...

Len lingered his touch on the last paper before picking up his bow. He positioned his hand correctly, his attention was on the laid out composition. Behind him, Alby watched, waiting expectedly, his hands on his hips. Beyond the door was a perfectly non-affiliated individual doing some really important paperwork.

Conveying intentions. Len played the music, building it up into 3 levels. First was for his own pleasure. Second was to be judged. And a third for someone... to be distracted.

**End of Chapter 14**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	15. Chapter 15

_Hiya! I'm going to take a week or so off from fanfiction, to update my online life and RL. Hope you don't mind. I can't believe it's chapter 15 already (and a whole month!). Most fanfiction around here do one shots. What was I thinking? Oh yeah. Pure day-dreaming. I have the whole storyline in my head, just need to share in detail (hehehe!). Anyway, just to tell you that the story is now about 1/4 of the way. Yes, still a long way to go. The rest of the tales to come are Kumiko's ballet audition, Len's birthday and being the concertmaster, the identity of the shadowed man and, oh wow, is that a hospital?_

_See you after my break!_

**

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****Il Suono d'Oro**

**Chapter15: ...So She Listens**

A light touch, a steady hand and a pair of experienced ears. Len never took his instruments, body and soul, for granted. His right hand was the body; his left, the soul. Together, he made his violin sing to life. The music he took care to copy with precision, for even the slightest mistake would be an insult to the creator.

In between the notes however, was his secret conveyance.

He ended with a subtle flourish. It had a slightly ajar feel that tricked the listener into thinking there might be more if they just wait a minute, a little more might come if they kept listening. Len breathed a silent sigh and allowed his own imagery follow the echoes of the melody in his mind.

Once he composed himself, he turned to Alby and waited for further instructions with resigned patience. The man was standing with crossed arms and eyes half-shut, his brows crinkled. He looked up when Len faced him and nodded his satisfaction.

"That's very good," said Alby, "Skilful wise, you got this piece in the bag. In fact-," he moved toward the piano to collect the scores, "I bet if I had given you all the 4 movements, you'll probably breeze through."

"How did you think I did, sir?" asked Len.

Alby smirked, "Do you really want to know?"

A less rhetorical question toward Len had never been asked. "Of course," he said firmly.

Alby patted the notes into a neat order, "Usually, I don't give remarks when the soloist had already been chosen. It's my policy not to let my own opinions distract the musician. During the initial stages, that is."

Methodically putting away his violin, Len halted himself from probing nonchalantly. So instead, he asked, "Sir, did I achieve the vision of the composition?"

Alby gave a solicitous yet serious glance, "You're not the type to simply mull things over time, aren't you? Can't wait till the official practise day?"

Why did Alby made it sound like it was a bad thing? There should not be anytime to waste to achieve excellence. "No, sir,"

"Okay, Tsukimori. The truth is you failed."

The storm outside continued to pour heavily. Inside, one of the two violinists in the room had been struck by a mental lockjaw.

"I knew almost immediately from your Friday audition that you are the best one of the all the violinists. Now," he added with a steely voice, "Do you think you can be the _right one_?"

Len stared at Alby with inner perplexity, "How is being the best musician, yet not the right musician?"

"You're perfect, of course. But you like to compete a lot, don't you?"

"Of course, sir," was all Len could say.

"Well then, there's your problem," Alby sighed, "There's something else you need to prove but we'll work on that later. For now, let's look in on Ms. Yukigawa's opinion."

"Why?" Len spoke before he thought. Inside his chest was a rankling burn.

Alby stopped in the middle of reaching for the doorknob and sternly faced him, "Are you questioning my evaluation, Tsukimori?"

Len bit the insides of his bottom lip, "Clarification, sir. About Ms. Yukigawa. Considering, if she has no connection with the Kamiya project, her opinion is more likely of a personal matter, isn't it?"

In plain, non-polite language, Len would rather just ask _what the hell of a kind of authority does_ she _have over his post-audition?_

The man read between the lines and smirked. He raked his hair with his hand for a moment. Then reached into his pocket and flipped out his cellphone, "Yes, it's a personal opinion I'm looking for. My original plan was to record your post audition so I can discuss it with another member of the team and get you a final appraisal."

"But Ms. Yukigawa's presence is actually quite opportune. You may not know who she is but she has estimation in music more than most musicians I've worked with. She's sensitive to music, and I'm guessing even before she became a professional pantomime."

Len frowned at the last word, "A pantomime?"

Alby nodded and with his foot, he pushed the door stopper out of the door's way, "Part of pantomiming is not only studying the mood and structure of music, they must express it truthfully with movements. If anyone can accurately envisage what you've just played, it's what this girl had been trained to do."

Pushing the door wide open, he gestured to Len to proceed before him. After the both left the room, Alby locked the door behind him.

Inside the office room, Kumiko was in the same place as he last saw her; sitting in front of the desk, her hands animated on the laptop and her backbone was in a state of idle statuesque. She looked like some CEO's secretary that had just been called out of her Sunday sleep-in to get back to the office for some overtime.

The older man gestured Len to move back and stay hidden in the corridor. Looking slightly amused at her casual posture, Alby knocked on the doorjamb.

"_Petit bru?_ What did you think?"

"Hm-mm?"

"C'mon. Don't tell me you hadn't been listening."

"Heh. _C'est a mourir de rire_," she sounded as if she was speaking with all blandness. Len frowned.

"Haha, funny. It wasn't supposed to be a killer-comedy, Yukigawa," said Alby, with the same half-annoyed feeling Len had.

A light snicker, "I'm just saying that it doesn't sound at all like your playing," A rusty creak of a spindly chair, "Which can only mean that you were with a protégé. Again. What do you want me to say?"

Leaning with a shoulder against the wall, Len blinked. He glanced questioningly at Alby, who gestured silence to him with a raised hand and a wink. He continued, "Well, just be brutally honest. He's standing right beside me, you know."

A slight pause, then Kumiko spoke again, "Is this for the Tchaikovsky recital or your other commission? The Kamiya project?"

Alby barked a chuckle, "Would it influence your opinion? Then I'm not saying."

"Is he someone I know? Do I owe him money?"

"Huh? How would I know? I just got back to Japan only last week."

"Was that the music composer playing? Are you trying to embarrass me into saying something stupid?"

"Nope. A concertmaster-in-training."

Silence momentarily filled in, "_You're_ the concertmaster for the Tchaikovsky recital."

"So?"

"Assistant concertmaster?"

"Nope. As you've guessed, this is for the Kamiya project."

"Ah? If your violinist is not part of the Tchaikovsky recital, why should my opinion count as anything?"

"Because I trust your music sensitivity."

Another, much longer pause. "Heh. Okay, sure," Then she breathed a soft feminine sigh, "I don't know what style he was working on. But the visualization is quite expressive," Another chair squeak, "That's the best I can say. On the details."

"Details?" Alby raised a condescending eyebrow, "Yukigawa, just toss me a metaphorical comparative of the overall view like you always do. Don't bother about the details and technicalities. That's my place."

"Okay, but this time, I will not be held responsible for any outcome upon the future career of said violin major. Professional or emotional. While undergoing the torture of Mr. Arnold Alby-Bach. Can we sign contract on that?"

Alby only gave her a pointed look and a suppressed growl, one that rankled Len in his gut the longer this tête-à-tête went on. Kumiko continued with a laugh, "Okay, never mind that," she said primly, "Your mystery violinist played like Napoleon Bonaparte lived during his exile in Elba."

Alby blinked, "Excuse me?"

"Napoleon Bonaparte was an unpopular French dictator," Kumiko began, "But even in exile, he ruled and commanded as if he was still leader of his country. He planned for a showdown with the English throughout his imprisonment."

Len scowled. Story-telling? How was this going to aid him? Time was just wasting away with Alby and his seeking Kumiko's opinion. If Alby had not spoken out a negative review on his performance, Len would have called it a day and went home. Or back to the faculty practise rooms, since the rains did not look like it was receding anytime.

_Failed_.

How had he failed? He was chosen based on his abilities and his empathy into contributing success toward a master composer's vision. Len had studied Kamiya's performances extensively, more so in these pass few weeks. He knew the man's style. When that composition was in his hand, he had expected no less than a masterpiece.

And Len religiously respected masterpieces. _So what was lacking?_

"Your violinist is trapped,"

Len's eyes grew wide at that statement. He stood up straight and turned to face the conductor. Alby was not watching inward the office room. The man was leaning on the wall on the other side of the doorway, his arms crossed on his chest. Watching Len. He had a very serious countenance; his eyes were as sharp as it was brazen. In every sense except in speech, Alby was saying that though it was a personal opinion, he took Kumiko's regard professionally.

"How so? Care to explain to us?" asked Alby, still staring at Len.

A sigh. Len leaned forward a bit to peek into the room.

Kumiko was still at the table, her face turned away, busy at the laptop, her head rested under one chin. Her gaze every now and then looked toward the closed window, the storm weather was still pouring like a bathroom shower.

"He sounds like... he's calling out his grandeur to the common folks. Loud in all the simple tunes. When he gets to the difficult parts, he's pushing to show off the dynamics. It's proud but..."

Her voice faltered, but she sounded like it was more from thoughtful introversion than being stumped for words, "What kind of pride was he trying to say, he's not clear. Like a martyr-wannabe. Like he's got a secret he only keeps to himself. The melody was his both his prison and his sanctuary and that's what I see the most."

Silence was a tiny hole inside Len that seemed to pull everything within into darkness. Kumiko tilted her head to the side but not completely turning to look behind her.

"_Qui est-ce?_" she asked, curiously.

"_Cela ne vous concerne pas_," answered Alby gruffly. He reached a long arm to the door knob and pulled it towards him, to close the door, "Just keep working on that registration. And please try not to abuse my committee account, okay?"

"And risk the Association finding out that it was me who rigged the audition arrangements instead of you? Gee, that would be very, very bad," she said airily, as Alby shut the door.

Save for the distant monotonous pattering of the raindrops on the slate roof, the hallway was very quiet. Len stood before Alby with solemn resolute. The man's expression had never changed though out the discussion. He looked as if he was expecting Len to say something.

"I... understand, sir," said Len. His interpretation of the composition was way off from the vision of the concerto music. That was what had failed.

Alby gave him a nod and a grunt, "Though I would welcome a second hand in cleaning up this place, I prefer that you get someplace and think about what you have to do. What you're supposed to deliver. By next week." He gestured to the corridor that led to the building entrance, "You're dismissed."

To think about it. After giving Alby a parting half-bow, Len proceeded toward the front door. At the entrance space, there were two wet umbrellas dripping on the stand. One was his own. The other was white coloured and had the logo of a pearl halfway eclipsing a star with the caption _Pearl of Nemo Condominiums_. Yunoki's. He must have lent it to Kumiko before he left for the bus going to Seisou Academy.

A thought crept into his mind but he willed it away. Len took his umbrella and exited the building. Eventually, he passed through the Academic building and got out. Onward his way home.

The worst of the heavy rains seemed to have already passed. The air was cool and refreshing. He walked slowly, mindful of the puddles on the sidewalk and of puddles run over by the passing cars that made splash curtains. Inside him, evoked from memory the sound of the music.

Light at the first touch. Steady hands on the vibrato. A bit of Pagini, a dash of Kreisler's subtlety, the ear of Liszt, as much of Bach's gravity put in and everything Len ever heard of from Kamiya's performances. He knew he was perfect. Alby said so he was perfect. He was the chosen concertmaster. He had seen the composition before anyone else, not even his back-up soloist. By next week, he would start to perform with the whole of the orchestra.

Yet, what was the true vision of the concerto?

"Hi Tsukimori,"

Len looked up and behind him. He found a girl with a white umbrella that had a logo and the caption _Pearl of Nemo Condominiums_.

"Small world, huh? But then again, this is Seisou's campus. I'm the one in your territory,"

Kumiko waved at him with a greeting and a soft smile. Len blinked as she approached him. She had a large sling bag with the thick strap across her body; by the size of the bulk, he suspected that was where she carried her skates. He simply nodded and moved to avoid her but Kumiko stopped in front of him.

"Just a minute, I got something for you," said Kumiko. "It's the music scores of the Kamiya violin concerto. First movement."

One hand holding up the umbrella, the other reached into her sling bag and took out a large brown envelope. She held it up to Len. He took it with ease, his eyes narrowed with the unspoken question. As he expected, Kumiko was acute. She raised him a condescending eyebrow and walked beside him as he turned to move on.

She rolled her eyes, "Yes, I knew it was you. Yes, I guess that you played that score. And no, I wasn't exaggerating when I told Alby that you sounded trapped."

"I see," said Len with indifference. Whatever her relationship was with the conductor, her opinion does not matter to _him_. Even though, she understood music very well.

After a while, he frowned, "Mr. Alby asked you to pass this to me?"

"Yeah. Told me to catch up to you quickly, in case you took a taxi instead of the bus."

"You're not going back to him?"

She sighed, "My work was a quick one, done in minutes. I would have finished sooner but I couldn't concentrate when you started playing."

The both crossed a wet empty street, making wide separate sides of a particularly large puddle. Kumiko continued, "Why did you play like that?"

It was a loaded question. One Len knew that she had no right to pry. Besides, the answer was not flattering. He conveyed what he had wanted to play. But she had found what he had wanted to hide. Very few people could see through him like that, see through him what not even his parents could penetrate. He kept silent, slowed his walking pace and ignored her completely.

Kumiko took the hint and nodded. She turned her gaze away and quickened her pace, walking ahead of him and away from him. But she kept at the same pace as his, only a few feet of separation between them. It seemed to Len that she was going the same way as he was, probably going out of the campus.

They continued to maintain that way until they reached the traffic lights. Though there was no car whatsoever on the road, they both stopped at the zebra crossing on the pedestrian red light. Of course, an instinct of long practise, but it brought them within speaking distance again. Len inwardly hoped she would not try to engage in chit-chat.

Too bad Fate did not grant his wish.

"Congratulation. On your win at the audition," said Kumiko softly with a sideways glance.

Len gave her a soft humph. After a moment, she continued, "You'll like working with Alby. I doubt my opinion would sway him much on how he'll behave around you."

Ooo, that really hit on his concerning thoughts. "Alby seemed to take your review of my playing with weight," what Len really wanted to know what why.

"Well, he was probably looking for a second opinion, that's all," she quipped.

Second opinion? Alby said that Kumiko was a non-affiliated individual waiting to be distracted. Yet _how much_ non-affiliated was she? She understood music. More than that, she understood the musician while he was playing the music as well. At first, Len thought Kumiko had something similar to the gift of hearing Aoi Kaji possessed.

Kaji could tell the emotions of the player and detail the precision of song and play like an audio psychologist. But Kumiko's ability appeared to be that she understood the overall interconnectivity. The bigger picture that was the person's personality, the relationship toward the melody and the layers between the dynamics. She could hear not just how a musician play but _why_ the musician play the way he played.

Which made her a very dangerous listener to soloists everywhere.

Pedestrian traffic turned green. After they crossed the road, Kumiko made herself to walk ahead of Len, as before but Len caught up to walk beside her. She gave him a wide-eyed look but turned away in silence. It was Len who spoke first.

"How long have you known Mr. Alby?" asked Len.

"Wha-wha-huh?" she stammered.

Len huffed, "Humour me. Everyone knows his professional background. I would like to understand him as a co-worker. Have you worked with him in something before?"

Kumiko went blank for a moment, but then she shrugged her shoulders, "If you mean a _musique grande_ work-type-ship, not really. When he lived in Japan for three years, he met, married and divorced my ballet school's teacher. He also taught me some music lessons, just enough to understand scores. And also a lot of French, because he got bored."

"Interesting, but your answer is somewhat irrelevant to my question," Len frowned.

Kumiko humped, "Just giving some personal background. He likes to tell stories when he plays, which was why he contracted himself with theatre orchestras. I've always known him as a strictly dedicated musician and you can't distract him when he's concentrating hard."

She turned to face him, "Alby would work well with you, since he works well with anyone under most circumstances. You just got to let him trust you a little."

"Trust a little?" Concerning Alby, Len wondered what did that mean.

Kumiko tapped a finger at Len's bag, "He gave you a composition that should be kept under lock and key. Now he'll expect you to deliver something,"

"I see."

"However," Kumiko continued with a tinge of new introspection, "They way he conducts and the way he played concertmaster are different. He's more serious as a conductor. Being a concertmaster he reserved exclusively for stage productions."

Len did not know how to answer to that so he kept quiet. The two walked together in silence, sheltered only by their umbrellas toward each own destination that, for some reason, seemed to be on parallel.

"Do you like ballet?" Kumiko quipped though the quiet. Her voice sounded a bit strained.

Len blinked then scowled, "Ballet?"

"Yeah," she said, then quickly added, "Your turn to humour me."

He hid a growl. Glancing at the umbrella she held, he remembered what Yunoki had mentioned before. Kumiko had looked graceful spinning under Kahoko's tune. A ballerina.

"Not particularly," said Len. And that was true enough. He never really liked any profession or occasion that took attention away from music at its most basic and beautiful form. He had thought that his negative would dispirit Kumiko. But when he looked sideways to see her expression, she had a different reaction.

"Why not?" her voice was half-shocked. Her attention was full on him.

Len blinked in surprise, "You don't need to know why," he huffed haughtily.

"I do," Kumiko said firmly.

Len caught her eye. Her narrow-silted gaze. She appeared to be in a state of half-pouting, half-incensed.

In this subject, he was unconcerned the least, "I don't have any obligation to answer you."

"Actually you do."

The corner of his mouth twitched, "No I do not."

"If you're a musician, you'll answer me,"

Of all things that anyone had ever said to Len, that one took the cake. And the cake's table settings as well. So much so that it stopped him in his tracks. This girl brazenly told him what he was obligated to? _As a musician?_ If he had been in a bad mood, he might have mistakenly interpreted that as a command. It sounded like a command anyway.

Kumiko had stopped as well. She wore a black glare and it shone straight at him. Len wondered why she was angry at him when it was _she_ who had insulted _him_.

"What right do you have that I would have to answer you anything?" he nearly hissed.

Kumiko looked only calm in crossed arms, "My right as a ballerina."

Len raised an eyebrow, "And why should that concerns me? _As a musician?_" he added ice in his last 3 words.

The girl answered just as coldly, "Because don't you _feel_ obligated?"

_What the-?_ But Kumiko continued before he spoke, "If it weren't for the art of dancing, your profession would not have achieved the respect of today."

_Okaaaay..._ "You had it on backwards. Music is what propels the ballet industry,"

"Oh? How? Music without its accompaniments has too few qualities."

"Accompaniments?"

"Dancing. Drama. Pantomime. _Ballet_," she gestured with one hand before tucking it back into her crossed arms.

Her stance was beyond arrogance, her voice beyond cool. At any moment, the raindrops around her would turn into snow. Len gritted his teeth.

"The _accompaniments_, as you termed it-,"

"That's what it's called, not what only I call it," Kumiko snapped but Len continued without stopping.

"-, you termed it are mostly inopportune distractions from the true music listening. The visualization colours the wrong impressions."

"On the contrary," said Kumiko, steely, "Having mental pictures toward the rhythm and style of the composer more clearly expresses the context of the music."

Calm, cool, ice and control. Len could feel the wet air between them not only had turned into snow, but forecast called for an incoming blizzard.

"On what account? What example?" he dared himself to ask.

Kumiko huffed haughtily, "Of course, Tchaikovsky's success. Then there's Stravinsky and Copland."

Len suppressed the urge to roll his eyes heavenward. It would not look professional, "Those are ballet composers."

"Gee, did you expect I name Missy Eliot or Backstreet Boys? I have music knowledge too."

"Ballet composers had their music contorted and reshaped to suit the dancers' limitations."

"But if it hadn't, Delibes would not have been eternally remembered for his music in _Coppelia_. Nor Lehar for his in _Merry Widow_."

"On the contrary. I have great respect for composer whose masterpieces are excellent to listen to."

"So why you object?"

"Because, like I said, visualization distracts and even insults the music with pompous acting."

"Ballet had done nothing but improve music through creative advancements."

"Except for the ones like that atrocious Australian ballet, _The Concert_. I've attended it once and it was a series of mockery toward Chopin's music."

"What? The flapping umbrellas? The dirty hat and chomped cigar? The butterfly net?"

"You know of it, don't you?

"Of course. Raindrop Prelude, the Minute Waltz and Butterfly Etude. To name a few. How is that not creative?"

"Chopin was turning in his grave. This proves that music does not need ballet."

"_No need!?_"

Len nearly stepped back by the violence of Kumiko's snarl. He literally stepped back when she pulled herself up to her toes to stare shamelessly at his eye level. She had all the impression of Ice Queen cometh as she jabbed a finger at his chest.

"You are a musician. Don't you need something to expand your art?"

He slapped her hand away, "Music is best performed in singularity."

"On the contrary, Tsukimori," Kumiko sighed, "Music should never be left alone."

Inwardly, Len blinked. This girl's last words echoed a time he left behind in the past. A past of concurs, ensembles and a young concertmistress. That concertmistress had spoken the exact same words to him... before she left him. He blinked away the memory and in his vision was Kumiko's sharp and piercing glare.

He opened his mouth to utter a potentially fatal set-down to her when a fast moving car came with a wet road screech. It drove fast through the rain, the unseen driver taking advantage of the empty streets to play racer on wet tyres. The vehicle approached them through all the puddles.

Kumiko was the first to react. Len felt himself being pushed in the chest by a cold hand to speedily make room for a large umbrella in front of him. Len had barely time to turn his back to the road and protect his violin case. The car drove by them and sped off in everything that happened in less than a few seconds. Its passing made a wave of white water, rain that had pooled on the ground, and it hit Kumiko's umbrella with a loud smack.

After the incident had passed, Len noted that though most of the water had struck the protective umbrella, Kumiko had sacrificed her own safety for his. A good portion of the flying water had struck her everywhere. He stared at her dishevelled form. From her damp hair coating her face and neck to her two-toned sweatshirt, she was obviously soaked through.

Kumiko blinked and ruefully pushed the blond fringe of her hair out of her eyes. She turned to Len. "Are you alright?"

His tongue suddenly too heavy to move, Len only nodded. When she asked about his violin, if was safe and dry. He immediately checked and nodded at that as well. She blinked a few times and Len could see that she was assessing a comparison between his state and hers. Her eyes grew so wide that he could see the flashing silver insets in the dark green.

A gulp escaped her throat. The side of her mouth twitched. Suspecting something outward was coming, Len raised an inquiring eyebrow. When a louder, more suppressed snicker escaped, Kumiko covered her mouth and her face away from him, her wet shoulder heaving and shaking.

"What is so amusing?" asked Len. Kumio pulled a stunt and got herself as wet as a fish. Granted, she did it for his sake. Why she did it, Len could not tell. But she did it and it had happened. He remained dry. He would have felt thankful and said something to express his gratitude and some concern for her probable chill.

If she would just stop laughing.

"Not-nothing," Kumiko chortled, after Len asked a second time. She stepped back and closed her umbrella. Exposing herself even more to the elements.

"What are you doing? Open that back," said Len. He advanced toward her, what he intended to do he had not a clue yet. Only that Kumiko might catch a cold. Don't all dancers take meticulous care of their health? What was she doing?

Kumiko adjusted her sling bag on her shoulder. When Len got himself next to her, she simply grinned and hooked Yunoki's closed umbrella on Len's arm that held up his own umbrella. He paused in his steps.

"Yunoki said that you're a friend. Can you give that back to him please?" asked Kumiko, "It was very nice of him but I'm not sure when I might see him again."

"You're walking in the rain?" asked Len, adjusting his hold on Yunoki's umbrella with his violin case clamped under his arm.

"Of course not. I'm not going to walk in this God-forsaken weather," said Kumiko cheerily. She gave him a shy passing smile, "I'm going to run,"

"Run?"

"Yeah. Once I get beyond the second block, I'll put on my skates and then I'll be on my way home in no time."

This girl was not making any sense. Running in the rain? "Don't be an idiot. You'll get sick."

"Then I don't have to come to school tomorrow."

"You'll slip on a puddle and fall and even break a leg."

"I love that you're so cheerful."

Len reached to grab on her shoulder but she deftly moved out of his reach, "Are you an idiot?"

"So?"

She said it with such patent happiness that Len stopped and stare. "Bye, Tsukimori," was her parting words. And she left. One arm had clamped her sling bag against her chest; the other was outstretched on her side for balance. Her feet took off like a sprinter in a race, taking the route way ahead of him.

In less than a minute, she was gone.

Now what was she doing? Len huffed and raked his bangs away from his forehead. Either the girl was half-crazy or something had finally made her snap her wits. Running in the rain. Just when today he thought she had appeared to be sober. After tying Yunoki's umbrella neatly, Len continued to proceed with his route.

Alone.

Her ridiculous chatter was gone. And her ice-heated attitude toward his views on the subject of ballet and music was left but a memory in his mind. It took the rest of the way to the bus stop for Len to realize that he just had a completely rational discussion with Kumiko Yukigawa for the first time. Without any bad luck or mutual third party.

While it had lasted. For a second, Len wondered what he had missed if that car had not appeared but that thought disappeared with the approaching bus.

**End of Chapter 15**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	16. Chapter 16

_This chapter is dedicated to Jarield, who made the one real review I've really been waiting for so very long. But unfortunately, this chapter is still full of mysteries, sorry!_

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**Il Suono d'Oro**

**Chapter16: Upstart Melodies**

Kumiko was starting to hate that man. Again.

Immediately when she woke up that morning, two days after she had hijacked her old friend's favour in Seisou University, she was determined to contact her old cat-boss guy. For a little chit-chat. Since she no longer had a cellphone, she used a public phone booth in the park by the sea very early in the morning before she goes to school.

She made just one call and it was never picked up. Good enough.

Now it was after school and she was determine to not waste anymore time. She took off immediately, ignoring suspicious looks from the other students. There had been something in the school's bulletin billboard with her name on it earlier that day but her current errand was more pressing.

Shadow guy, cat-boss; his real name she dared not to say even in her mind so she can play their business role better. He should be around that park by now. He had too. If not, Kumiko was determined to confront him right at his hidey-hole he called a 'day-job', even if it would risk blowing both their secrets. Her emotions were a mix of apprehension and suppressed anger.

She knew that deep inside, her new and unforeseen problem had something to do with _him_.

The sea view park was nice and airy. There was a cold wind blowing, but the weekend rain storm had made the sky very clear and the sun shining. Much of those who were outside were the healthy types who did not stay in one place much, but kept moving to keep their bodies warm.

Like what Kumiko was doing. She kicked up her speed and jumped up over a short flight of stairs, no hindrance to her experience. It felt good to keep moving. Moving helped her think. And she needed to think. In addition to scouting for her shadowed man. She crossed pass the enclosed basketball court and continued onward towards the white stone fountain.

There were not many bench sitters at the fountain. An old man with a walking stick with a book. A lady watching her two kids playing near the fountain. Three guys passing a basketball between then in a playful manner, speaking loudly about a game they saw on TV recently. The latter group wolf-whistled a couple of times when Kumiko passed by but she continued to ignore them.

After the tenth roundabout around the park, she was getting tired of skating. Tired of searching. It seemed that the man now wanted her to do some waiting. Not for the second or third time, her inner grumpy ego warred with her anxiety of being discovered consorting with him at such an open space. But very quickly, her determination won.

Kumiko skated back to the stone fountain area. The old man had left; his seat taken over by a girl with glasses and busy with a laptop. The lady with the children was now enjoying a snack together and the 3 dudes with one ball between them were breaking up their noisy little group. Kumiko sat on a bench the farthest away from them all.

She plonked herself on her seat, breathing in the wind as it chilled her heated skin, drying her sweat away. The cold crisp air made her head dizzy. A slight shiver crept within her, both mental and physical. She willed it away, distracting herself by recalling the empty chaos of the night before. It had all been so flat and still, her mind drifting through the memories like a series of photographs in a slideshow.

It was at ballet practise the night before. Kumiko entered the studio at precisely 7pm, half-an-hour earlier than the starting time, as she always did. Miss Miya was having dinner in the upstairs apartment where she lived, as she always does at the time. What was surprising was finding 3 of the audition members crowding around Miss Miya's kitchen table.

They all looked up when Kumiko had entered the room. Asuka and the Kushiro twins stood looking very morosely. Miss Miya did not look so happy herself, sitting at the table, her arms folded before her on the clean surface. Kumiko's initial reaction was that perhaps Miss Miya had a stomach ache but the atmosphere was too intense for something as simple.

Revelation came within minutes after that time. The rest of the 3 hour practise was even less enthusiastic to conduct.

A shadow crept over her closed eyes. Kumiko brought herself back to the present and the sea-view park. She peek one eye open and found one of the basketball guys towering over her. Startled, she blinked and sat up straight. He was wearing sunglasses and an open jacket torn at the sleeves. One knee was on the seat of the bench, one hand on the backrest which he was leaning against.

"Hey there, pretty chick," he drooled in a deep voice. Some women might find his voice charming. He probably thought so too, "Finally worn yourself out, eh?"

Kumiko bit the inside of her lip and sighed, "Um, hi. I'm just going to get up in a second."

Normally, she would have given such a guy a polite opening for him to say something else before sizing up the person. But since she was waiting for someone, she kept her face turned away and her bag-pack between them. Not entirely pretending to be thirsty, she opened a bottle of ice lemon tea from her bag and drank for as long as she dared. Hoping he would take the hint.

When the guy did not move away but instead chuckled, she gritted her teeth. Then huffed inaudibly. In truth, she avoided guys for more reasons than because they too often come after her when she was not in the mood. She just disliked guys taller than her, that was just it. When they stand over her head while she was sitting down, she had to crick up her neck just to look up to a tall guy.

Might as well get over with it.

"Can I-,"

"You have no idea who I am, do you?"

Kumiko blinked and stared. Then blushed. The guy just chuckled and with his knee, he edged her bag and her to give him ample room to sit down on the bench. Kumiko involuntarily compiled, half-hoping that her face did not look as blank as she felt. He took up a wide space in an indolent pose, placing the basketball between his thighs.

"Ah-ah-ah..." she stammered but the guy hushed her with a finger to her lips.

"Don't blow my cover okay? You look too obvious." he said irritably.

Kumiko tried to discern his expression from behind the large dark sunglasses but could not. Instead, she noticed something else more obvious.

"You restyled your hair?" she asked in wonder.

"Yeah, why?"

"I thought you hated red hair."

"The better to not be myself. I fooled you didn't I?" he sneered but Kumiko was still looking at his head.

"That's really not a wig."

"Your point?"

"How are you going to have to get back to your day-job with _that_ for a head?"

"Enough teasing okay? I already hated having to had to colour it. But this place is dodgier for me it is than for you."

"It's a public park."

"Not to me, it isn't" he growled in a low voice.

Kumiko humped. She screwed closed her bottle of tea but the guy took it from her grasp and unscrewed it. Before she could protest, he swung the drink and gulped everything down as if it were the last water of the desert.

"Hey!" she half-cried.

"Shut up and let me be the boorish one this time, okay?" he hissed. After finished up the drink, he tossed it into the metal wastebasket next to the bench. When he missed, Kumiko suspected that he did it on purpose.

She felt half-incensed at his attitude. But she supposed it might be fair. Kumiko studied his posture. It was the first time she had ever seen him the way he was, in either identities. His trench coat was gone, replaced by long pants, running shoes and light t-shirt that had the name and number of a famous Chinese basketball player. He looked more like an unemployed drop-out with no place to go instead of the broody stranger she was used to.

Neither image fitted his real character. That she was sure of. Kumiko wondered if her call had disturbed the guy from being in the middle of something. She poised that question to him and the guy only shrugged and gestured his hands.

"Something like that." he mumbled, "Things had been a bit crazy around my area for the past few days," He gave her a sideways glance that was somewhat disconcerting. "But I suppose, you might have heard about it, haven't you?"

Watching him look at her like that, all emotions except deliberation drained out of her. Leaning forward, she turned her gaze from him and rested her chin on the steeple of her fingers.

"I want to know about what happened to the Kininobu family," she spoke slowly.

Beside her, she heard a slight hiss. She continued before he answered, "They lived in that street along the freeway. The whole family worked in that run-down fishermen's market several blocks not far from the docks."

She let the silence drag. In discussing seriousness with him, silence had always been her greatest weapon. After a pause, the guy leaned forward as she had and bounced the basketball for a moment in a dejected way.

"Not everyone in that family worked in that market," he said.

Kumiko nodded slightly, "No. Their youngest daughter, Ayumu, was allowed some free time for after school activities."

"Yeah. She... she used to go to the same dance school as you do, I remember," Though he did not sound convincing, it was enough to make Kumiko snap.

"Used to? So you _knew_!?" She gave him a vicious glare, one he answered with a shush.

The guy turned his head quickly, looking left and right. But so far, no one around seemed to have noticed them specifically. Kumiko bit the insides of her lip in dread. Her voice had been loud in her last words. It would not do to attract attention, any sort of interested attention towards them. If they had to, it would be nothing more than a guy and a girl having a heated discussion.

She groaned inwardly. Everything was getting so complicated.

"You called me in. I would have thought you'll be more discrete while being here," said the guy softly.

Kumiko shook her head, "I guess it was easier to forget my old life than I thought. Overlooked a few rules, sorry."

"If you really had forgotten your old life, you should have left the Kininobu family thing alone."

"I can't. She's my friend,"

"She's only your friend because you both share only one thing together. Face it Kumiko, who did you have that you don't associate your dancing game with?"

The truth of his comment made echoes in her mind.

Dancing game? It was not a game, it was her life. It was all she knew that kept her grounded. Kumiko wanted to scream that but the mishmash of emotions building up within her made her voice stuck in her throat.

"I have you," she finally answered softly.

A hand gave her a firm grip on her shoulder for s moment before it let go, "But I don't count, remember?"

Kumiko twiddled her fingers. _No, you do_.

A pit of hot nuisance dripped within her the second that sense of self-pity emerged. She composed herself to speak dignified, "I just want to know what's going on."

"Why? How is your friend special?" asked the guy. At least his inquiry sounded sincere.

"If you can't see her as my friend," said Kumiko, with renewed force, "Then see it this way. My audition team is now short by one person and the due date to perform is this weekend. My friend is losing a great opportunity to perform on a pro-level setting due to unforeseen circumstances. However, since she's always been _such_ a dedicated student and the studio is _such_ a dedicated school..."

She leaned back on her seat, her head on the backrest, "As captain of the team, I'll need to make sure if she might reconsider in case something else comes up," and gave the guy a gaze laden with meaning, "Such as if another member of my team became suddenly 'un-contactable'."

She held up both her hands and gestured her fingers to sarcastically emphasize on the word 'un-contactable'. The guy's jaw looked as hard as granite. Kumiko wondered of the low sound she heard were the distant waves on the shore or him grinding his teeth. There was a short-lived pause before the guy finally spoke.

"Your Kininobu friend is safe," he said quietly.

"The family?"

"They're all safe."

"Where?"

"I don't know. I put them in touch with my contact who owed me a favour."

"Did you hurt them?"

"What? No! Things just got crazy, I said."

"Crazy enough that they had to get out in a hurry? All of them?"

"Yeah,"

"How safe is your-,"

"They're from my other line of work. I just added a few fragile excuses to explain why I needed their help and now the Kininobu family are gone."

"Out of town?"

"Way, waaaay out. They'll be safe. Well, safer."

"Are you sure?"

"I made a phone call and the father thanked me personally. He sounded worried but not distressed."

A moment of silence. The guy did not look at if he wanted to speak any further. Her patience allowed herself to count to ten. Her patience ran out at five.

"And?" she could not keep the antagonism out of her voice.

"It was not my fault," his voice was both frustrated and crestfallen. "But lay all the guilt on me if you want. It's still a fail."

He then mumbled delicately, "Well? Isn't this were you're going to ask what had happened?"

Kumiko could not stand not looking at him any longer. She turned to face him and touched her hand on his arm familiarly. When he turned to look at her, she frowned over her own reflection at his dark sunglasses.

"That fishermen's market and the surrounding area was one of your prime pack places," Kumiko began, "It was never a clean safe place, granted. But since you seized controlled, real people with real business could actually flourish."

"Within _my_ rules," he grinned.

She only rolled her eyes heavenward, "Well, taxes are still taxes, bodyguards are still bodyguards. My point is that though standard of living was never as peaceful as the politicians had lied, everything else had been getting better under your business than it had under your rivals. If you had personally..."

_Rivals_. Oh gods, why had not she thought of that before? Kumiko felt heat grow in her cheeks. She turned away before he could see but the man was perceptive. He always had. She heard a bad-suppressed growl and a hard hand gripped her wrist.

"_Don't. You. Dare_." Every word had a sting as sharp as the sting in her wrist.

Kumiko kept silence. She feared that if she spoke, she could not lie that she had initially thought that... the worst thing to think about that might had befell upon Ayumu and her family. That was caused by him.

"I did not have anything to do with what had happened to that family. _Personally_." His spoken voice was more than soft. It was emaciated.

Kumiko was inwardly rocked, more by her wavering trust than her discovering that she had been wrong about him, "I just needed to know. You being who you are in this dirty business."

"There are many ways with many things I can personally destroy a man, my dear. But not his _family_."

He let go of her arm with a sudden release, "Never his family. My grudge is bordered only by my pride."

Kumiko faced the solemn man beside her. She braved herself to quip, "Pride of a good man?"

He snorted ungraciously, "I'm not a good man. Where have you got that delusion from?"

"Heh, sorry. I must have confused you for someone else," smiled Kumiko.

He returned her smile with a thoughtful one of his own, "First is risk of indiscretion. Now identity confusion. It was a good thing I got you retired before you ruined us both."

Kumiko pouted, "You retired me? I've retired myself, thank you very much."

"Haha, don't look at me like that. You're not completely retired, remembered?" He made a half-laughing face but his words were all heavy with import.

"Unfortunately," sighed Kumiko.

She gave him a fleeting look before rubbing her face with her hands. Now that she had gotten from him her inquiry, she had to return the favour. There was only one subject the man could ever need from her and that was her experience. Kumiko wondered if she should start charging more exorbitant prices to stay current with the inflation of risk on his black market empire.

"Have you narrowed down the rivals responsible for the new kittens?" she mumbled into her hands.

"No, that's the tricky part. I've only managed to identify the muscle who bullied into the fishermen's market territory."

"Who?"

"It's that big corporate high-class type. Poster Japanese businessman. Soft clean hands."

The image swam into her memory like the dorsal fin of a shark, "Michio's pack. Is his pack..." she only gestured what she could not express in words.

"Yeah," said the man, "His pack scared everybody in the fishermen's market. The Kininobu family were one of the first to quit their jobs for safety."

That Michio...You sure?"

"I recognize the machines his dogs use. Low tech brute force. Head knockers. Not clever enough to betray anyone."

"Sounds like Michio's becoming a queen bee."

"Yeah. But it's not him who produced the honey you've found."

"How did you know it's not him?"

"I've checked the usual carriers he uses. Not the supply trucks or those who work in the warehouses. None of those drugs."

"Double checked?"

"All my own dogs smelled nothing."

"But then," Kumiko scratched the back of her head in confusion, "I know the runs Michio makes in his distribution strategy. Last year, your pack beat up his pack and they left with broken jawbones. When they try to sneak in products, your carriers are better at stomping out their stuff."

"Yes. Either he's too stupid, asking me to repeat what I did to him before or..."

He did not falter in his speech but his speaking glance had all the availability for Kumiko to fill in the blanks herself. She nodded in answer.

"Michio's pack also feels threatened by the new kittens on the loose too," she said with a hiss, "And thinks that you're responsible for it."

"Maybe. That's speculation, Kumiko. Don't start," said the man. He spun the basketball with one hand, "We don't know all the details yet. And indulging in speculation is the mother of all F-ups."

"Will you tell me?"

Kumiko knew that she had startled him. She did not need to see that his spinning hand on the ball suddenly jerked and the ball went bouncing under the bench and rolled away from their reach. The man cursed at his clumsiness and got up to retrieve it. But she held a light touch to his arm. It would not stop him from brushing her off, though.

_But she really wanted to know_.

"You don't need to know anything," he said. Anger was painted on his face.

She blinked and nodded in understanding of his concern. But still, she added, "I need to know in case anything might affect Jones's school,"

The man huffed, "You really love that school, don't you?"

"Yes," said Kumiko convincingly, "And it consists more than just Miss Miya and the Warehouse."

"You can't save everyone. You know that right?"

She had heard those words before. It was Kumiko's turn to huff, "Just let me go through with the ones I already have, okay?" she implored.

He shrugged his shoulders and rubbed the side of his neck in defeat, "I will tell... just get a new cell phone already okay?"

Kumiko only hid her smile, "Okay. But it won't be until next month."

Getting up as he did, she watched him get up to fetch his basketball. It had rolled toward the stone fountain and had lay still. She followed him on her skates, making wide turns before coming up to him.

"By the way," she started, keeping her voice low, "did you know that you spit when you whistled?"

His grin was part-grimace, "It was not my idea. I told those two that I needed a cover. You did know recognize them either, did you?"

"Your basketball buddies?" Slowing her motion, Kumiko blinked and shook her head.

The man chuckled, "Stop by at my regular job sometime and introduce yourself. All in normal circumstances of course."

"What? New dogs for the pack?" she was half-joking when she asked but the man gave her a grave reply.

"New rats."

A shiver of nauseating dread she did not realize she had was pooling in her gut. Kumiko gulped and willed the sensation from her thoughts. Instead, she put on a bright face and remarked, "Hm-mmm. Fresh hands need to know the trade. Maybe I really will stop by your office. Even if just to see your new red hair again."

The man barked a laughed. Before Kumiko could predict, he playfully brushed his hand on her head, messing the part of her hair with the blond fringe. Under his breath, he muttered words in a low voice, "I'm really glad you've retired, Kumiko. Your passion is too strong for the criminal line."

She blanked for a second before her hand unconsciously patted the spot where he had messed, "Umm, thanks. Kojima."

Kumiko stood still as she watched the man-, the man she knew as Kojima-, ran off in a runner's gait, at times bouncing his ball on the paved ground, other times just tucking the ball under his arm. He disappeared behind a line of trees in direction to where the basketball courts were. A smirk touched her lips. It soon grew into a smile.

Realizing that she was on the verge of a day-dream, Kumiko sighed at her susceptibility.

She kicked her feet to propel herself forward. All too soon, the rest of her woes came back to haunt her. Ayumu was gone. She took Kojima's word of honour about the family's current state. Her current ballet team was unfortunately short by one member. That meant that unless they can train one of the other girls before Saturday, they would have to re-choreograph the group audition.

On top of it all, she still had her own personal problems.

She still had not found someone who could record her solo audition's music. Her new good friend, Kahoko, was a talented violinist, but it turned out, the latter parts of the violin music were too complicated for her. Slowing down would loose part of the essence of the piece, other than it would be beyond the time limit allowed. Kumiko needed to find another person who could play _Devil's Trill_.

But who?

If Kumiko had not been so immersed in her thoughts, she would have probably noticed the one blue-haired person who had originally introduced her to that music. Walking alone, he was behind some tall shrubbery. In between the settings, he had noticed her interactions with Kojima. Her obvious familiarity in conversing.

Now the person in question stared at her as she made a turn after climbing the stairs and took off in the opposite direction. Half her thoughts occupied; the other half was skating with her body. Perhaps, if Kumiko had noticed Len watching her, she would have noticed another tall person who was behind Len as well.

Unlike Len's curious glance, the second set of watchful eyes was malicious.

**End of Chapter 16**

* * *

_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	17. Chapter 17

**Il Suono d'Oro**

**Chapter17: Intermissions**

"_Here kitty, kitty, kitty,"_

_Kumiko curled herself up into the smallest form she could make herself inside the tiny bottom space of cupboard. Wrapping her small arms around her skinny knees, she was covered from head to toe in a thin bed sheet._

"_Hey there pretty meow. Don't you want to play with us?"_

"_Purr, puuuurrtty kitty-girl. We got some lollipops and a dolly for you."_

_There seemed to be at least two men. One of them made disgusting kissing noises with his lips as the other called and cajoled her to come out. Fear made her neck sweat and her heart beat rapidly. She peek one eye open and saw through the cloth that she had wrapped around her. The tiny storeroom held coats and spare futon beds, all unseen in the complete darkness._

_The only visible light was shining too brightly from the space under the door of the storeroom. Often, too often, the light was disturbed by the silhouette of feet from the two men as the walked by. Their steps were heavy with every pliant tread and their deep voices continued to look for her, cooing and coaxing her to meet them._

"_Awww, the hide and seek game are we? In here?"_

_The light was once again cut off by the strangers' presence. But this time, they did not move away. A series of light knocks on the door. Kumiko sucked in a frightened squeak. The men on the other side snickered. _

"_Aaah, we can heeear yooooou. We fooound yooooou..."_

"_Here kitty-kitty. Open the door and let's all play together."_

_No, no, no, no, nooo. Where were her dad and her brother? Why were they not home yet? Where were they when she needed them? She wanted them to make the strange men to get out of the house and go far away. Most of all, she wanted her mother to hold her and hum melodies to her._

_But Mamma was gone._

_They turned, twisted and twiddled with the doorknob but it was locked, shut tight. One of them cried something she could not understand but he sounded very angry. The knocking on the door grew louder and harder. Kumiko squeezed herself even tighter. _

_She begged and prayed that the lock would hold, promising that she would be a good daughter and sister for ever and ever and ever if those men would just give up and leave._

_They continued to bang hard on the door. It grew louder and louder and..._

"Kumiko, wake up!"

The last bang on the door jolted her to consciousness. She sucked in her breath and opened her eyes. Light blinded her waking vision she shut them back from the intense whiteness. Her head felt groggy and dizzy, her throat was dry. The rest of her body felt sore and cramped; she realized that she had been sleeping curled into a ball on her futon bed.

"Kumiko? Please say something!" cried her landlady.

"I'm-," she coughed, "I'm up, I'm up," Clearing her throat, she rubbed her face. Her cheeks felt stiff and thick, her hands even more so.

Kumiko stretched, rolled and pushed the blankets away. After forcing her body to move, she got up and unlocked all the locks on her door except the chain lock. Attentively, she opened the door to a slight crack. From outside came to her senses were the smell of petrol, the noise of over-pimped motorcycles machines and the sight of the round and beefy woman in a dirty smock that was Mrs. Koganei.

She sighed when she saw Kumiko in her bedraggled oversized T-shirt, "My dear, I was so worried!" she exclaimed.

Kumiko huffed, "What's up? Is there an earthquake or a gas leak or something?"

Her face quickly turned from concerned to outraged modesty, "Be serious, Ms. Yukigawa. I want to talk seriously. You're supposed to be at school right now,"

"Right now?"

It was unusually sunny and bright from her window. Kumiko stared at the clock over the kitchenette of her one room apartment with tiny bathroom. It was almost 10 in the morning. And it was Wednesday.

She had overslept. Way, waaay overslept.

"Oh _hell fuc-_, I mean, oh no," she checked her language.

Mrs. Koganei humped, "Kumiko, I thought you were already at school. When I saw your skates still at the shoe rack and all your letters still in the mailbox-,"

"It's okay. I'm awake now. I'm going out right now."

"Are you ill? Any dizzy spells? Your brother did warn me-,"

"Just some hard-knocking schoolwork. I'll fake out an excuse or something for the teacher tomorrow."

"Didn't you hear your alarm go off? You know-,"

"Must have slept through it. Probably weak battery. Sorry to make you worry. I'm fine, really."

But Mrs. Koganei still looked unconvinced. Kumiko gave the kind-faced middle-aged woman with grey hairs an apologetic wave and rueful grimace.

"Okay then, dear. There is some food in my kitchen fridge if you'd like some breakfast."

"Thank you. Maybe I'll go out to the mini-mall or somewhere. Will you be in the repair shop the whole day?"

"Yes," Mrs. Koganei said simply. Then she frowned and placed her hands on her hips in all the look of an offended guardian, "Really! A third-year student skipping school. If you had been one of my own nieces, I'd smack you."

Kumiko simply grinned falsely. She watched the lady's back as she retreated to the stairs and down to the shop's reception area, probably going out to the garage area where all the metal, oil, elbow grease and broken motorcycles were. Waiting until she heard the electronic door sang its open-door tune, she exhaled a sigh and closed her own door.

And slid her back against it, collapsing onto the bare wooden floor.

Just a bad dream. A damned bad dream. Kumiko sat cross-legged, blinking away the lightheaded-ness, residue of her leftover sleep. Overslept. It was not the first time ever but it was the first time in a long, long time. Though the alarm was a cheap, it was usually pretty effective. It usually had a loud jarring tone. Had her bad dream caused her to sleep to deep?

She decided to not think too much about it or it might drive her to worry unnecessarily. A better, simpler explanation would probably be from something she must have eaten last night. Her hands were too cold. Her face was stiffening up again. She chewed softly on the inside of her bottom lip.

Bad dreams. Old nightmares. Those days were long gone.

"Meow," quipped a tiny voice.

She looked up from her pensive state and saw two tiny heads covered in soft fur and crowned with large ears. The kittens peek at her from their cardboard box she had constructed to be a bed filled with clean rags. They were delivered for her the night before, next to the usual UPS packages filled with custom motor parts. There was not any note from Kojima or any indication of further contact. She would worry about that later.

"Hey boys," she smiled softly. She reached out her arms to them. On cue, the little things took towards her in a joyful bounce. One linked her fingers; the other gnawed its tiny teeth. They were becoming quite healthy; the biting one actually felt a bit of a sting there.

"You two must be really hungry," said Kumiko, "I'll get your breakfast ready. Sorry to be a bad mommy,"

The white, licky kitten climbed up to her lap, licking all the way up her arm. Without thinking, without looking, Kumiko gently nudged it to the palm of her hand and lifted it to rub its head against her cheek. It mewed piteously. The kitten was warm and soft. And not a dream.

No more bad dreams. No more old nightmares. Those days were _over_.

Between clenched teeth, she silently added, "Time to wake up."

* * *

"Is there something going on between Tsuchiura and Kahoko?"

Len ignored Hihara's question and continued to chew on his tuna sandwich over his textbook. Yet discreetly, his eye moved to the corner by the large glass window of the cafeteria. It was a crowded lunch hour and the cafeteria had just about as many people as there were chairs provided for them.

Which was why, as much as he preferred to eat alone, Len found himself in the same seating place as Hihara and Yunoki. Then again, it was better with the devil you know than the stranger you do not. Furthermore, Hihara was generally better behaved in public when accompanied with Yunoki.

Sitting in silence, Len hoped the influence would last at least as long as he lunched.

Outside was where most of the two-seat tables were. One of those tables was occupied by the two stated individuals, Tsuchiura and Kahoko. Lunchtime, as an unspoken rule amongst the group, was their sharing time alone together unless they themselves approach the group. Today was no different, or so it seemed.

"Do you really have to ask?" said Yunoki from behind a magazine titled the _Silk Culture_. "I believe it's been going on for almost a year. Or maybe even longer. It's called a steady relationship. Something you don't have."

Hihara blinked, then scowled, "Yeah, I knew that as much as you did, buddy. I was talking about something's amiss."

Between mouthfuls of a pork bun, his voice betrayed sincere concern. Yunoki lay down the magazine he was reading and like Hihara, he observed at outside the two friends that were an item, a couple in a relationship.

"Hey, that's... unusual," Yunoki remarked.

Hihara nodded, "You saw that one right? That's the third time he did that."

Len looked up from his textbook, memorizing the paragraph he was on about _Nuances Differential: Baroque Era_. Towards where Hihara and Yunoki watched.

Tsuchiura seemed to be absorbed in a sports magazine. Kahoko had a phone in one hand making short messages and idly studying an open CD case with the other. Neither Kahoko nor Tsuchiura were eating; their plates appeared to be empty. Neither seemed to be interacting much with each other.

At least, Kahoko was the one who tried to interact. Her eyes often strayed towards Tsuchiura. Immersed in his magazine, he barely looked up. When she spoke something, he answered in short sentences or nothing at all. Once or twice, she placed a hand on his bare arm, of which he either ignored or briefly gripped it before releasing it.

In the end, Kahoko huffed and returned to studying her cellphone and CD. Tsuchiura did not even bat an eyelid.

"Oh c'mon," said Hihara, exasperatedly, "He's totally ignoring her. She right there in front of him and he's actually ignoring her?"

"It appears so," said Yunoki. Instead of his usual airy self, he sounded concerned, "But let's not get to such conclusions on first sight."

"That's a classic bored-with-girlfriend shift. Even I know that."

"Troubled waters ahead, perhaps? What do you think, Tsukimori?"

Len looked to Yunoki, who had noticed his brooding watch. He answered with only an indifferent _humph_.

"There's no need for my opinion," said Len. "It's their private matter."

Yunoki's lips had his snake-smile, "Are you saying that you're not the least bit curious?"

"No."

"How practical of you, Tsukimori."

Len allowed Yunoki the last word to conclude from further discussion. Yet the rest of his thoughts still ran on spinning wheels.

Tsuchiura's love life was of no concern to him. The man had a history there that was of little interest, save for the series of incidents of last year that had already been resolved. Kahoko, on the other hand, Len had always known she was a susceptible girl. Her environment reflected her heart and vice versa. Which in turn, reflected her feelings in music.

And her feelings, at the moment, were too obvious to those who knew her too well. Outside, Kahoko had a smile on her face that did not look entirely genuine. She gathered her things from the table, her books, phone and other apparels. After zipping her bag, she got up and leaned over to the oblivious Tsuchiura's head and planted a kiss on his temple.

The man finally made a reaction. He blinked and looked up to her with a face of confused wonder. Kahoko simply raked her hand through his hair in a playful manner and said something that made Tsuchiura paused with a blank face before jerkily nodded and said something else in return.

She in turn shrugged her shoulders and walked away from the area with a gesture and the universal hand signal to her ear at him, an asking to call her. Beyond the fence that bordered the cafeteria's outdoor settings, two girls with violin cases waved at Kahoko, who waved at them back. She soon disappeared, arm in arm with them.

Back at the table, alone, Tsuchiura blinked in a dumfounded state. He looked as if he finally realized that he missed something important. He scratched his head and sighed. Gathering his own belongings, he signalled to the waiter of his leaving and walked out towards the exit of the opposite direction from Kahoko's parting.

Neither of the two had noticed the eyes of three men inside the cafeteria proper. Three pairs of eyes who had hardly expected that sort of interlude from the couple. Two were stunned. One frowned before he turned away too quickly.

"So!" Hihara finally spoke up, "Whatcha reading there, Yunoki?" He peeked over the cover.

Yunoki took the hint on subject change, "Just something I borrowed from Kahoko. Some articles in here I found to be quite interesting to read," he said, "Did you know that ballet dancers are prone to more types of injuries than soccer players?"

Hihara whistled, "Dancers like Ms. Yukigawa?"

"Her? Even on pre-professional, I suppose."

"Cool. Athletic artists. Hey, both your sisters used to participate in ballet recitals, right?" asked Hihara absently.

Yunoki became somewhat arrested for a moment, before he serenely answered, "Indeed. When my older sister decided that she had enough, Grandmother decided that Miyabi should have had enough as well."

"Awww, pity," and it was Hihara's turn to take Yunoki's hint, "Oh yeah, speaking of dancing, I got to tell you about my boss and his night club..."

Listening with only half an ear, Len returned to his textbook and sandwiches. He outlined the important details with a yellow marker pen. He added bookmark stickers to the top corners of noted pages. He wrote additional information of what he knew from other resources-, in blue pen-, on the empty spaces on the sides of the pages.

Only then did he realize that it was not his book but a library book he was vandalizing. He hid a disgruntled hiss. Meticulously, he wiped the breadcrumbs away so they would not get caught in the centre of the pages. Eating while studying was a new bad habit he was forming, but there was only so much time in the waking hours he could schedule.

Priority to most of his time had been given a disciplined division; studying for his courses and improving himself on the Kamiya piece. Everything else was mostly observatory; participation limited. He had not asked for additional solitary periods, but Len had informed them of his receiving and currently working on the music composition.

Like any conduct of long-time working partners who knew best, the group gave him enough girth to make his paces. Especially in the light that, along with some fifty other members of the newly formed orchestra, they would be led by him for the entire length of the violin concerto.

Except Tsuchiura.

He had failed his audition.

Len wondered if the final result of the entire orchestra membership was what had distracted Tsuchiura during that lunch. The unfortunate too visible level of passion within his long-time piano equal though had gifted him with a sensitivity that brought him his prodigious mastery, it also made Tsuchiura easily preoccupied.

When Tsuchiura could not concentrate on his music work, he could not concentrate on Kahoko. And when he was unable to concentrate on Kahoko, he was not able to concentrate on everything else.

Thus the curse of the man's wilder passions.

Nonetheless, with Kahoko definitely part of the orchestra, Len made a mental note to monitor Tsuchiura's level of composure in the coming future. The last thing he wanted was Kahoko's boyfriend to disturb and limit her latent talents. Witness her achieving only a seat in the first violinists group, even though she was a former concertmistress back in Seisou Academy.

Even though her passion was pure, it was not unlimited.

That was what Len knew all along.

"Excuse me Tsukimori, but can I ask you something?" said Yunoki.

Len turned to Yunoki and Hihara and found both their attentions pointed at him. After he inquired for the reason, Yunoki gave Hihara a sideways glance without turning his head, in which the latter only grinned. When the two of them looked at each other that way, Len realized that he had somehow missed an omen.

"What?" he asked suspiciously.

"Oh, just wanting to be forthcoming about something I've learned recently," Yunoki began, "Since, you've already informed me of your mother's interests for next week."

His mother's-, next week? That could only mean one thing, "I see. You mean the charity event."

"On your birthday," Hihara's face held all the most unbecoming mischief in his grin.

Len passed an expression of flat contempt at Yunoki's way. He thought his senior should have known better than to start _that_ with both him and Hihara in one presence. He was not in the mood for a tease-fest run around. At least, not while he was still eating lunch. The man accept Len's stiff look with an amused humph.

"It's receiving of publicity, Tsukimori. I couldn't have hid it from Hihara, even if I hadn't wanted to," said Yunoki.

"In fact, my own boss got an invitation in his mail already," said Hihara. He gently lifted the magazine from Yunoki's slack grasp and presented to Len a full length centrespread advertorial, "A silent auction for charity. Looks like a hell of a major formal birthday party."

Len suppressed a growl, "It's my mother's project. It has nothing to do with me."

"But you will be performing in the gala, isn't that right?" asked Yunoki.

Len answered with a curt nod but Yunoki continued, "I too had been asked to perform a piece with my flute," he turned to Hihara, "And so did Tsuchiura with the piano."

"Wow. That's just sooo... just really wow," said Hihara in bewilderment, "Hey, any idea who else got asked?"

From their identical looks, Len suspected that was the pertaining question in their minds, "From what I've been informed-," from what he had taken himself to be aware of-, "Ousaki had accepted a request and along with two other professional musicians. All had accepted."

"I see," said Yunoki, "One, three... six musicians in all then."

"Indeed," Len concluded. He cleared his last sandwich piece and finished his drink, "And if you wish to know anything more, you may ask my mother or Mrs. Michio, the MC of the event."

"Will do. Thank you, Tsukimori," said Yunoki.

Deciding that it was high-time to get himself out of the cafeteria, Len took the opportunity to gather his things and got up. He muttered an indifferent, don't-be-late-for-class remark, and took his leave. Which was quite in a nick of time as from behind him, Hihara called out in a somewhat embarrassingly audible voice, "Hey, will there be a Happy Birthday song!?"

Cringing, he pretended that he did not hear Hihara. It was only a few steps afterwards that he oriented his mind into a discovery. He was having another birthday. Another year had passed for him and he was still in Japan. When most musicians of his background and skill had developed and continued onward under notable maestros' tutelage or international-level orchestras, Len was still in his hometown, still a student under the name of Seisou.

But it would not be for long.

Patience, commitment and most of all, experience. It was the third requirement of which he believed that he still lacked. There were no such things as hard and fast rules to perfection, as much as all musicians tried. Experience was the thing Len had kept himself in check, in ready, for the best opportunity. The opportunity that was the Kamiya project.

Now that he was already the concertmaster, his patience was slowly grating. His only consolation was that in two days, he needed to present his efforts once again to Alby, this time along with Shinobu Ousaki and the rest of the project team.

The route Len was taking toward the training rooms by passed the second largest auditorium on campus. Though the hall itself was only slightly bigger than the hall where Kamiya had given his speech the other day, it had a joined building section full of classrooms and galleries.

Usually that auditorium was not often used; rather it was open mostly for companies who wished to rent large auditoriums for public or private functions. The main university theatre was never for rent while the third smallest hall was too small. But from the current hive of activity that had been buzzing around it for sometime, it appeared that the auditorium was about to be in use again.

Trucks with contractor logos line up in the car park. Uniformed workers in rolled sleeves carrying building materials went into the building and came out slapping white dust off their shoulders. Once or twice, Len even spotted Alby having an animated conversation with the foreman who wore a dark suit and hardhat, a large blueprint sheet was always held between them.

Amongst the current moving workers, neither foreman nor Alby was around the premises at that moment. But another duo in an equally lively chat caught Len's attention. They were ahead of him; the taller one had blocked the other girl from his view.

The two of them were facing each other while leaning against the low stone barrier that bordered the grounds of the auditorium with the road and sidewalk. He had thought to ignore them, but did not realize then who they were until he heard their familiar voices. Both of them.

"A duet?" said Kahoko.

"Yes, that's right. I really hope I'm not troubling you too much," said Kumiko.

"I don't mind. Perhaps I can ask-,"

'I mean, with Alby's other project and then you got your own school-,"

"Hey, enough already! I said I'll help you so you can stop worrying,"

"Er, yeah, yeah, okay," she ended it with a sigh.

Len blinked and his steps faltered. At that moment, Kumiko turned to watch the workers at work, flitting in and out of the building. Kahoko then saw Len watching and her face broke into a smile of recognition. Anticipated recognition. She patted on Kumiko's shoulder and informed her of his presence.

Kumiko paused and turned to him. She blinked, then paused, then gave him a resigned smirk that disappeared quickly. It was as if she could not have care less for perceiving Len but nonetheless, from her nod, appeared to be waiting and wanting to engage him about something with crossed arms.

There was a different light in her expression that Len had never seen before. Along with an aura of solid determination.

He frowned. Now what was she up to?

**End of Chapter 17**

* * *

___Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	18. Chapter 18

**Il Suono d'Oro**

**Chapter18: **_**Cambiare**_** Persona**

"Aren't you supposed to be at school?" asked Len. Though that girl was not wearing her uniform, he could hardly forget that it was a weekday in the middle of a working semester.

Kumiko did not answer immediately. She continued to look out towards the construction activity beyond the low stone barrier, her hands laid restfully in the wall. Her eyes were contemplative, but not distracted. Standing between them was Kahoko, who blinked at Kumiko's somewhat pensive pose.

"I'm avoiding the Academy at the moment, said Kumiko, finally.

"Avoiding? How come?" asked Kahoko with a surprised. Len himself raised an inquiring eyebrow.

Raking her fingers through the top of her fringe, Kumiko sighed, "Let's just say... I didn't realize that the high school had such an active journalism club,"

There was conclusiveness in her tone that made the statement sound not entirely false. Kahoko shook her head in amusement, "Yeah. Nami's legacy actually. The juniors seem to decide that her forward technique was the best way to get cover stories."

"It's an annoying technique. I'm not fond of it at all,"

"Why are the journalism club going after you?" asked Len. It was a question that had more than simple curiosity in his mind. He remembered from past experience that no matter how pushy members of Nami Amou's junior reporters were, they never waste effort in chasing after anything that had low media value.

Unless Kumiko was exaggerating, this did not seem to be from how she said it, or she was a pretty good actress. For some reason, Len did not think it was the latter. Hence, his question.

Kahoko heard his question and was about to open her mouth to speak, "Oh, I'm guessing it's-," but Kumiko stopped her was a halting touch on her shoulder. She passed a firm gaze at Kahoko, beseeching silence.

"Don't. That's not important," said Kumiko. She removed her hand and returned to watching the auditorium and those working around it, "It's not the reason why I'm here right now."

There was a tinge of vehemence as she spoke which she did not hid entirely. Len narrowed his eyes at her demeanour. Kahoko looked more surprised that he was at Kumiko's state.

Kumiko gave her a slow nod with closed eyes, "I had been looking for Kahoko before I'm meeting Mr. Alby," she paused, then added, "I'm on a schedule. And now I'm requesting some new help from you, Kahoko."

When she turned to face him, Len inwardly stiffened. But with a neutral expression, she only added, "And you too, Tsukimori. If you would please."

Inwardly, Len had a mixed sense of indifference and interest; neither could he tell which was the greater. He turned to Kahoko instead for further clarification. She caught Len's eye and with a nod from Kumiko, she explained in a few short sentences. Within moments, Len learned that Kumiko was going to perform in a ballet audition that was to be held in the currently being renovated auditorium.

"Music for the solo section?" said Len, "You want a duet rendition of _Devil's Trill_."

Kumiko nodded, "That's right," When she did not say anything more, Len inquired for the reason with a single 'why'.

"Why?" Kumiko repeated. Her brows wrinkled for a moment before she added, "Which 'why'?"

"Excuse me?"

"Just be specific. Do you want to know why I needed a duet? Or do you want to know why I've chosen Kahoko and now I'm asking you?"

In turn, Len frowned at the latter phrasing, "Let's try with why me and Kahoko. I would prefer not to waste my time unnecessarily."

That was one way to put it. With the first orchestra practise coming up that Friday, Len had delegated his priorities to be more toward studying his solo than on other things. He could understand Kahoko's openness in allowing herself to be pulled in Kumiko's situation but he was more cautious. Furthermore, he needed to judge her character.

Prior to this, Kumiko had insulted his pride as a musician. Now she was asking for his help.

Kumiko reacted by blanching and passing a look of subtle entreaty to Kahoko. Kahoko had only smirked and said to the other girl, "Don't mind it much. It's his own way of being specific."

But Kumiko only shook her head, "I'm not offended. He has every right to ask what he might be involving himself in," She paused long enough to allow Kahoko to blink in a daze before continuing, "And you too, Kahoko. My request in this is entirely voluntarily."

"Ah, I don't mind, really. Might as well we go all the way right?" said Kahoko.

"Yes. And thank you for the CD," said Kumiko, distantly.

As Len observed her, he remembered what Kumiko had mentioned about body language. Though her arms and hands were relaxed on the stone barrier, her back looked as stiff as a soldier in a drill inspection. She had an odd habit of turning her head quickly to pin her eyes on the speaker whenever he or Kahoko spoke.

It seemed that Kahoko was not blind either, "Kumiko, are you feeling alright?" she asked with concern.

"Hm-mmm? What do you mean?"

"You seem a bit off today. Are you, umm... you know. About that." Kahoko gestured a hand at the auditorium.

Kumiko stole a glance at the building and then huffed irritably, "Yes, perhaps I am nervous but that's not the issue here," she gestured both hands to Len and Kahoko, "I've heard the way how you both played. I think you two got a great sense of harmony in the contrast of styles. I would like to record it and use as my background if it's alright,"

She nodded to Kahoko, "Have you two played a duet together before?" Kumiko asked.

Inwardly, he scowled. Before Kahoko could speak, Len answered conscientiously, "Not in a long while. But," he threw Kahoko a probing glance before continuing, "That particular music by Tartini is a difficult execution in the _allegro_ section. How long have you been practising?"

Kahoko shook her head, "I've started working on it for a while now but only more seriously when Kumiko asked me earlier this week. But then... some other things just caught up," she ended with a sigh.

_Other things like what happened in the cafeteria?_ Len knew better than to utter such words.

"That's not good," said Len with a haughty huff, "You should set more diligence on your main concerns in this. Especially," he raised an eyebrow toward Kumiko, "When others depending on your part in the participation require so much of your practise."

To Kumiko, he spoke sarcastically, "Why don't you go back to the high school and ask someone else? If Mr. Alby had not informed you, we both are part of the Kamiya project and posses limited time of our own as it is."

Looking as if her jaw had been locked, Kumiko countered, "Like I said, this was entirely voluntarily," she said. Then she grinned slyly, "Besides, you two are the best violinists I could bump into."

"Really?" Kahoko sounded charmed.

Kumiko returned her smile, "For my solo practise, your experience or skill in music level in not a factor for the style of choreography I have in mind. This is a dancing audition," she gestured to the auditorium, "The judges are looking toward how well I can execute the spirit of the music in terms such as skill, characterization, synergy and so on. The choice of the piece is a minor issue."

Though Len felt she must have phrased it to gratify them, he still felt slightly incensed. In his opinion, and she should have remembered that, secondary representation of the musical arts could only have lesser impact than the actual listening compositions. Thus, in other words, there was no way he was going to be involved in something that encouraged events where music was a _minor issue_.

"If choice of the piece was not a central criterion, why are you so concerned?" asked Len. Kumiko gave him an open gaze, waiting for him to continue, which he did, "Shouldn't you be more focused on your dancing skills instead?"

Kumiko scowled and looked to about to say something cutting, before she simply huffed and half-rolled her eyes, "And you think I don't know that?"

Before Len could reply-, what reply he could make-, it was Kahoko who interrupted him, "Len, it's a duet she's auditioning with," she said firmly, "She said she wanted to dance a piece that showed contrast in harmony."

Contrast in harmony?

Len perceived that it meant the differing styles between his and Kahoko's playing on their violins. If he wanted to be an idealistic, he could say that Kahoko's style was about carefree intuitions with subtle emotional power and latent child-like innocence. He knew his own style... was a contrast.

Yet their time together as working partners, they both had imparted upon each other a sort of stepping turns, empowering toward homogeneous accomplishment. Learning that from her, he was thankful for the insight and new changes. But... since Kahoko charted her own path and he allowed her to be free... music had not brought her back to him.

Even though she was never far away.

"If we could play together," said Kahoko, her hands gesturing actively, "Kumiko can use the duality violins to match the settings for the lead casting roles."

"The female lead cast," said Len, thoughtful, "That would be the Swan Queen role, isn't it?"

Kumiko nodded, "I want to match the overall characteristics of what that role demands of the performer."

"Duality. Half-woman, half-swan?"

Both girls suddenly turned blank and exchanged speaking glances. Kumiko was the first to react. She frowned and then gave a resigned look. Next to her, Kahoko had a pair of crooked lips, as if she was trying to suppress a laugh. If there was some girls' version of an inside joke here, Len could only wait with reluctantly stifled patience. He crossed his arms to show his exasperation.

"That's only superficial impression," said Kumiko. She seemed to have checked herself before she rolled her eyes.

Still, Len's intellectual pride felt bruised, "What is there to understand? The story is no great secret."

True enough. The Swan Lake ballet was a timeless work of art. One does not study its theme opus without knowing the inspirational folklore that brought the Russian composer to weave his pen and piano. The leading role for the ballerina was the swan queen who ruled over her lake kingdom, trapped in a state of half-creature by a baron who had used dark sorcery.

"That's the faerie tale concept, Len," said Kahoko, "But in the ballet itself, that's not what the duality impression Kumiko was talking about. It's about playing two different identities in identical movements."

Kumiko blinked, "Wow... er, that was spot on, Kahoko. You knew?"

It was the way Kumiko passed to her a fleeting look that made Len stared at Kahoko with a searching glance for insight. Secretly, he felt a bit of a surprise himself.

Between both their curious stares, Kahoko sheepishly grinned, "Well, I do love the stories music always had. And I love the music in any story," she shrugged her shoulders, "I've read a lot about the history of Tchaikovsky's ballet. And the female lead is one of the most difficult ballet leads ever designed."

She paused to take a breath, "Kumiko, you not only have to play the role of the Swan Queen, but also of the evil counterpart, right? The Black Swan."

Len could see that Kumiko looked impressed, "That is correct," said Kumiko, "To win the leading part, I have to show that I can play two completely opposite roles. The Swan Queen is all about grace, perseverance and protection."

She waved a light gesture toward Len, "The Black Swan would be about pride, glamour and trickery. The evil character must be clever enough to fool the prince in the story. But her dancing would be obvious to the audience that she's a fake."

"Which is why," Kumiko added, "I am asking for both of your favours to record duet music for my solo audition," she gestured, "Can you two help me?"

From the look on Kahoko's expression, it was no doubt which way the wind blew on her support. For his own part, he felt hesitant. Not of Kumiko's request or the manner of her request. It was the _intentions_ of her request that he was uncertain of. His regard for her strategic ploy to win a coveted position was understandable. But in all, it seemed overly music-oriented. Does it not? He spoke that thought aloud to Kumiko, who reacted with a considering pause.

"How so?" asked Kumiko.

"I was wondering," said Len, "That as it is a dancing audition. Shouldn't you be more focused on the technicalities and emotions of the ballet?"

In crossed arms, Kumiko rubbed her neck with the tips of her fingers, "Yes, that's being the priorities that should be showcased in the group auditions. The Association had given all the schools at least 5 months to prepare."

"Don't the solo auditions focus on the structure as well?"

"Of course," replied Kumiko. After a moment, she narrowed her eyes at him, "Where are you getting at, Tsukimori?"

Undeterred by neither her glare nor Kahoko's passing appealing gaze, Len continued, "It's the quality of your performance. Can you be certain to able to match the quality of the music provided?"

What he was implying was that Len had not forgotten Kumiko's outrageous argument that it was ballet arts that brought up the musical arts. Some perennial imp within him-, or in less juvenile terms, it was his pride-, was not going to let Kumiko pass that remark lightly. From the reaction of her raised eyebrow, he was half-pleased to take note that Kumiko had not forgotten their previous discussion as well.

Maybe Alby's recommendation of Kumiko's familiarity in pantomime abilities had a bit of merit. It was charmingly studious to meet someone who he could communicate easily in non-verbal terms other than music.

Sighing with a cynical tone, Kumiko replied, "For that matter, I have full confidence in my own skills," she gave Kahoko an appreciative nod, "Kahoko had lent me her CD. With her help, I've managed to memorise my freestyle by heart."

There was a sense of sincerity in Kumiko's voice that made her sound almost regal. Kahoko's cheeks tinged pink, "I... I knew how important practising well should be taken seriously. I knew you might want to give yourself constant revision."

"In any case, I need put myself in your debt again, Kahoko," said Kumiko, half-resignedly. She tilted her head at Len, "And every other resource I can get. I need to attain perfection in as much of the standards required as possible."

In bearing what she had said in his mind, a new thought formed within Len, "You're saying that you have an ideal of which you think a duet of _Devil's Trill_ would help you express it."

"That's the gist of it," replied Kumiko, "This ballet is very important to me."

"I can see that. But to prove yourself as a dancer, you should be able to dance your ideal into any form of music," said Len, sarcastically, "Shouldn't that be the way?"

Throughout the discussion, Kumiko had been drumming her fingers on the stone barrier. After he last spoke, those fingers suddenly stopped their action, even though her expression remained non-expressive. Kahoko did not seem to have noticed the younger girl's halted response. She commented an opinion.

"But won't being able to perform with the right kind of music give out the best advantage?" Nobody had ever said Kahoko was not astute.

When Kumiko did not speak, Len answered, "It would work. Only, if the routine can show more aspects than just the rhythm."

"More aspects?" asked Kahoko.

Len nodded, "It's like when you perform in a competiton, Kahoko. A musician should be able to express the chosen music to fit the theme."

He turned to catch Kumiko's eye, putting levels of meaning into his words, "I believe it would be true for dancers as well. If it's the characterization you're going for, then you really don't need to be so complicated, Ms. Yukigawa."

Kumiko smirked, "A violin duet is hardly a complicated structure."

"You were talking in terms of mood and structure. I was referring to overall context."

"Mood and structure are some of the fundamental basis. Those can't be ignored,"

"I'm not pleading ignorance. I'm emphasizing quality in more than just ballroom rhythm."

"Quality is what I can express in the highest standards," grumbled Kumiko, before adding, "Of which, having the right song choice would expand the perfection of the ballet."

"If you believe your ballet is already perfect, then it should be able to enhance the music. Thus, you don't need anything special."

Whether he meant to or not, Len could tell from Kumiko's stiffness that she perceived he had thrown down the gauntlet. And she accepted it.

"Special or not, I intend to _win_," there was a hidden bite in her words that sounded more to do with determination than stung superiority, "Under the judges' unanimous vote,"

"Which you only have, what? Less than 3 days away?"

"I've had months to prepare, thank you for asking,"

"And only _now_ you're looking for the right music? What kind of attitude is making things so last minute?"

"Don't you try several pieces before you finally decide the one you'll perform? Unless, it's _you_ who has no confidence in playing well, then I'll make a promise not to ask too much you,"

Inwardly, Len cringed, "If you're a truly performer you claim to be, you would make your ideal work into the music instead of the other way round,"

Somewhere Len must have hit a hidden mark because Kumiko suddenly looked startled. It was Kahoko who broke the awkward silence. "Okay, okay, that's enough you two!" cried Kahoko, her hands raised between them.

Blinking, Len composed himself. Kumiko did the same, though her cheeks were slightly pinkish. She turned her head away quickly with a sigh that sounded more like a hiss. Between them, Kahoko gave them both a puzzled and not-entirely amused look. She scratched the back of her neck before speaking.

"Look, the essence here is just one duet rendition. Music should be included in every usage," said Kahoko with a sweated smirk, "There's no need to run around about skills or experience. Kumiko is a great dancer, Len. She knows where to look for what she needs,"

She glanced over her shoulder for a moment, to the auditorium. Across the grassy square with its dainty springtime floral clusters in neat groups and the 'Keep off grass' signs, construction crews were hard at work, some on ladders, all were painting the main entrance's stone archway. Every few minutes or so, a line of coloured cushioned chairs still wrapped in plastic or a long table covered in old newspapers were brought in.

"I mean, wouldn't it be great?" said Kahoko, "That what's music to be recorded is not only going to be listened by a whole group of enthusiasts from a different art form, but also you're the dancer going to do it," she grinned at Kumiko, "I would really like to see how you'll dance with the violins."

But Kumiko did not look entirely reassured. Her face was, though not grim or discouraged, there was an aura of a strategist deep in reflection. When she caught Len's eye on her, she paused with slightly parted lips but then huffed with a smirk without a smile.

"Well, if Tsukimori doesn't want to help, he should have just said so," said Kumiko, dispiritedly. She adjusted the shoulder strap of her sling bag across her body with a somewhat distant manner.

Kahoko seemed perplexed, "Kumiko?"

"It's alright," said Kumiko, "I have to get going now. I promised Mr. Alby I won't keep him waiting,"

"Bu-but what about your solo piece?" asked Kahoko.

"Well for that, Tsukimori is right," Kumiko gave him a sideways glance, "It might be better that I focus less on the music and more on my skills," she patted her hand on Kahoko's shoulder in with a soft smile, "And I can't use Tartini's song in solo violin. The duality impact won't be the same."

Bowing slightly to Kahoko and Len, she signalled a parting wave of her hand, "Thank you for your time. Both of you."

"Oh. Okay then," said Kahoko, sounding partly disheartened.

Kumiko gave her a look of surprised and then rolled her eyes heavenward. She lightly slapped the other girl's shoulder. Though it looked playful, Len winced when Kahoko touched her shoulder in reaction. He knew that Kahoko was not as physically active as Kumiko was. Even in accident, Kumiko could have hurt Kahoko's arm.

Kumiko appeared to had not caught Len's narrowed watch, "I got some other really good music I could use, so don't worry," her voice was light-hearted, "I'll just need to work in adding something extra before this Saturday."

She gave them an earnest beam, "Will both of you come and watch me?"

Len spoke first before Kahoko could, "It depends," he said firmly, "Perhaps you might not know this. But Kahoko and I have prior engagements on Friday with the Kamiya project. There might be some additional attentions that would come up on Saturday as well."

"Oh right, the Kamiya orchestra," sighed Kahoko, "But, I'll definitely going to try to make it."

Kumiko nodded, "I see. That's fine with me really," she said, "The solo auditions would come up after the school groups. Should sometime in the late afternoon," she turned towards the opposite direction, "Remember. I'm going to win this."

Kahoko waved at her walking away, "Okay, good luck and good practise."

Len was not as inclined to gesture a goodbye. Enough as it was, he was half-glad to see Kumiko go. Particularly, her concerns were less than his. And the main concern of his was getting ready for his practise for the meeting on Friday night. His second concern was also making sure that as member of the orchestra, Kahoko knew that to.

With whatever private issue that was going on between her and Tsuchiura, the last thing Len wanted was Kahoko to be distracted with other things. Hence, most of his ring-around debate with that skater girl out-of-skates, instead of simply saying 'no', was to get Kahoko out of the idea, less she became even more distracted.

In most appearances, Kumiko could take care of herself.

"You really shouldn't have offered to help her so easily like that, Kahoko," said Len. He gestured her towards the music faculty buildings.

"What do you mean?" asked Kahoko. She allowed herself to walk alongside; they both had the same classes after lunch.

Len stressed out the limited time there was between the current time and the Friday first meeting at Seisou Academy.

"But... I wanted to help," said Kahoko, "I wanted to play violin for her."

"She wanted Tartini's _Devil's Trill_. Within the measure and all those double-stops, do you think you could have mastered that in less than 3 days?" asked Len, cynically.

Grimacing, Kahoko shook her head, "Well, she had thought a duet might help..." her voice faltered for a moment, "And she seemed a bit off today,"

Len raised an eyebrow, "I had not noticed anything different with Yukigawa,"

"Well, I did," said Kahoko, considering, "She's usually more cheerful. But she's so serious today. I was worried that she might be ill and that's why she wasn't at the high school."

For that, Len could come up with one conclusion, "If she was ill, she should have stayed home and get some rest. It seemed rather that she's only becoming more nervous." A common failing amongst performers after all.

Len continued, "On my part, I have set my priorities as the concertmaster. I also have been tasked to make sure the orchestra members work accordingly with my pace. So you see," he lowered his voice, "I cannot devote half-hearted energy to Yukigawa's scheme without doing justice to her expectations."

In the corner of his eye, he caught Kahoko rolled hers. He also caught a few mumbled words under her breath, words like 'Azuma's grandmother' and 'big prig'.

Offended at the seemingly unprofessional tack, he growled, "Excuse me?"

Kahoko gulped, "Nothing," she gestured, "Hey, we better get to class quickly or there'll be no seats left except the ones with wobbly tables."

She walked ahead of him and waved for him to quicken his pace. Len followed suit. But for a second, he turned his head automatically behind him, in an instinct most had when someone felt like another person was watching. But he saw no one around the vicinity. He inwardly shrugged and applied it as pure imagination.

* * *

_Working the ideal into the music_.

As she walked towards the university's administration building, Len's words rang into her mind in the same way she used to let music fill her. But what did those words mean? And why did it stick with her? Kumiko had a small idea. But unlike most small ideas she could brush off in times of seriousness, this one would not go away.

"Yes, Mr. Alby is inside the premises," said the receptionist behind the desk, "Is he expecting you?"

"Yes," lied Kumiko, "I'll see myself in,"

"Alright then, miss. Good day."

Luck was still with her, Alby was inside the old music faculty. Kumiko pushed all her previous thoughts to the back to her mind-, except for the one that would not go away-, and focused on the task at hand. She needed to get to Alby as quickly as _yesterday_. Of course, it would have been impossible. So between the layers of her mental schedule, now would be a really good time.

In addition to being part of the Kamiya project, Arnie Alby the theatre maestro from the United States was also in this year's committee member of the Tchaikovsky recitals organized by the Tokyo Association of Culture and Dance. Next to being an old friend of hers, Alby was also a member of the judges' advisory board for the audition phase.

Unlike the actual judging, he and a few others confirm attendance, meet with the ballet instructors and organize in which order the participating schools were to perform. Which in the third most aspect, it was a very good advantage Kumiko intended to exploit. Unashamedly.

Okay, it did grate a little on her conscience. Previously, she had secretly-, with Alby's reluctant cooperation, of course-, organized the order of the performers into her advantage. At least, what advantage she could deduct. The trick was to perform before the weaker schools and do it well enough to scare and overshadow the stronger schools.

It was not a dirty strategy as long as there was no actual cheating involved. To be poetic, some of the Chinese would call it _Sun Bin's Art of War_. Kumiko would call it _street rat trickery_. Hence, how else had she done so well growing up in ghetto Soruku and still undetected?

But now Ayumu Kininobu was gone. It should have been a five-member team to perform a rendition of the opening entry. Introducing the Prince and the 4 ladies of the court he had to choose his bride from. But with only 4 members now, including Kumiko herself, the only option in such short notice would be the _Danses de Cygnes_ scene.

Though true that it was a vital part of the entire ballet and a well-known classical music piece in its own right. But in the audition itself, a four-member team would be overlooked by the two other schools with their 8-member teams also performing the same scene.

Unless, Kumiko could get those 8-member groups to perform earlier in the selection and her own team to perform later. That way, those teams would need to rush in their big numbers. And her own team could study how _they_ perform in case of any last minute adjustments so to add their own advantage.

It was not a dirty strategy as long as there was no actual-, serious, injurious, backstabbing-, cheating involved.

Still, Kumiko felt like mentally hitting herself till she could not remember why. Before her courage failed her, she pressed onward to the old building. All she needed was to get to Alby's internet account for a few minutes. And change the order once again. She hoped Alby's other committee members would not suspect anything.

_Working the ideal into the music_.

That nagging little echo cropped up again in her mind. It was not an unheard of idea, but she wondered if Tsukimori knew what it meant to her. In her situation. In her experience.

After closing the door, she noticed two pairs of shoes in the entrance hallway. She recognized Alby's worn brown loafers but not the other one. Nonetheless, it still meant that Alby had company. Damn, she cursed inwardly. Kumiko really did not want anyone to walk in on her non-cheating mode with Alby's laptop. And Alby might be busy with the thing as well.

Perhaps she could ask politely? She was already here so might as well... The door behind her creaked open.

"Oh, hi there Yukigawa," said a not-so-stranger's voice, "Say, aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Gulping, Kumiko turned around. Standing at the threshold before her was a particularly tall gentleman with messy green hair, a knapsack and a roll of music notes in one hand. She recognized him as one of Kahoko's friends. Quickly scanning her memory, she managed to come up with a name and an identity.

Ryotaro Tsuchiura, piano master.

**End of Chapter 18**

* * *

___Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile. _


	19. Chapter 19

****

Il Suono D'Oro

**Chapter19: The Kamiya Project**

"It seemed that many Seisou students don't seem to like Kumiko very much," Kahoko sighed. She picked a finger at one corner of the paper notice on the bulletin board.

"Ah, not all students. Just some from the GE department," said Shoko attentively. She gripped her clarinet in its case with both hands. "But most of the music students do like her."

Behind them, Kaji smirked cynically, "You mean, they only like what she can do," His eyes strayed at the few lines written below a picture of an unsmiling girl in GE uniform ignoring the photographer, "And that she's the only one at school who can do it, it makes her a novelty."

Unconsciously drawn in by the topic for lack of a better diversion, Len studied the _Seisou News_ on the notice board. The main article, which had been posted some 3 days prior, showcased Kumiko's upcoming participation in the ballet auditions, being held in the university tomorrow.

Though the beginning of the article was most appreciative, dwelling on her previous achievements in various highly notable competitions, the succeeding paragraphs were subtly derogatory. Particularly in her origins, familial background and of her self-imposed exclusion from the general student community.

Many times the Seisou Drama Club, one of the few GE and Music students' joint activities, had approached her with honorary ingress but she turned them down repeatedly, citing conflicting schedules with her ballet school. That, along with snippets from a tabloid magazine, had pictured Kumiko as some kind of a self-made introvert of such not seen in Seisou, in quotation, '...since Len Tsukimori had mysteriously returned from his short stint in Vienna'.

Len rolled his eyes and turned away.

It was Friday night, one week after the music audition. It would be the first orchestra meeting and practise for those of the Kamiya project. About 60 chosen members were gathering at the main entrance hall of Seisou Academy. Most had brought along with them their equipment and all were standing in diverse groups, chatting and exchanging news and expectations.

Everybody bar Tsuchiura was present, straying around in other places for the moment. Shoko and Kahoko had been reading the notice board. Expectedly, Kaji stayed close to Kahoko in the absence of her boyfriend. Hihara were meeting up with a few old friends of his from the school band. Their chatter made the most noise in the area.

A greater gathering of the crowd was compacted near the bottom of the main staircase. Not only was because it would be the most obvious location to wait for the leading supervisors of the orchestral team, but because standing visibly on the top of the staircase were the two most prominent figures of the night; Ritsu Kamiya the composer himself and the conductor, Arnie Alby, were having a muted conversation with papers held between them.

On the bottom of the staircase were a group of three people wearing familiar looking official name tags hung around their necks. They appeared to be waiting, scanning for someone; a gray-haired lady looked as if she's making a headcount. Shimizu and Yunoki had strayed there and were conversing with one of the three, an Asian man who was the notable cello master, Chan Lian.

From time to time, Len found himself looking up to the composer and conductor's collective talk. Though too far to hear, their animated gestures, the way Alby's pen kept moving across the paper, betrayed seriousness in their discussions. Mayhap the reason why Kamiya had not yet been stormed by a nearby group of avidly watching female violinists with sparkling eyes.

In fact, the only female violinists that night without sparkling eyes was Kahoko herself. Barring that she was in many ways as much as a fan of Kamiya as the next red-blooded violin girl, it was the pose of being in a state of anti-gloom she was radiating faintly that grew more noticeable in the last few days. Yet at th moment, she was in appearance at happily anticipating the outcome of the night, if they would be given the music scores, if they all would practise as one group at once or if Kamiya himself would be performing himself.

Standing nearby, Shinobu Ousaki overheard her chatter and patted lightly on her shoulder, "No, I afraid Kamiya wouldn't be performing tonight."

Kahoko blinked, "Why?"

In understanding, Len answered, "Composers at times would hire others to conduct their own works. This allows them to concentrate fully on listening to the evolution of their composition and make changes when necessary."

"All about supervision," cheered Ousaki, "He's just here to be reassured that everything goes smoothly for the first night. The ones in charge would be Alby, of course, and myself for now."

While looking for Len to confirm attendance, Ousaki had met up with all of them earlier while helping Kanazawa with some last-minute equipment preparation. He was the assisting conductor of the current concerto and would be Len's taskmaster for the violin composition just as Alby would be for the whole orchestra.

"All in all, there are nine members of the Kamiya team, including Kanazawa and two guest musicians." Ousaki had an amused tone in his voice, "Although, being a veteran violinist himself, I won't be surprised if Alby tried to butt in on our practise sessions, giving pointers."

"So each concerto's concertmaster has their mentor?" asked Kaji in awe. He glanced over to where the standing people were waiting patiently for the time being.

Ousaki nodded, "Yes, that's right. I'll go next to the staircase soon, to introduce myself to the group."

"What is everybody waiting for?" asked Len. The assembly had commenced for almost half-an-hour yet not much seem to be happening other than Kamiya and Alby's private discussions.

"Mrs. Shio hadn't showed up yet. I wonder where she gone off?" Ousaki his head to study the crowd but Len could see from his expression that he was hiding concern, "The last I've heard, she went to look for the guest musicians,"

Len hid a frown, "Guest musicians?" he echoed.

"Yes," said Ousaki, "Not all the concertos would need all the instruments in the orchestra. For instance, the piano and the harp are needed only when necessary. Thus, the harpist and the pianist are known as guest musicians only."

"A guest pianist, huh?" wondered Kahoko. She pointed to two girls at one corner holding between them a plastic-blinded book. "Aren't they the chosen pianists?"

Ousaki noticed the pair and smiled while shaking his head, "Ah, true enough. But those two are needed to concentrate on the piano concerto coming up next year," he said, "Furthermore, Seisou had also commissioned Kamiya to aid the pianists on some neoclassical pieces to debut in the summer festival during the September holidays, since they'll both have plenty of free time by then."

A peculiar thought crept into Len's mind at that moment. To avoid inquiring directly in case he was mistaken, he rephrased the issue upon speaking, "So what does the team needs for an additional pianist then?"

With a somewhat ominous smile, Ousaki replied, "Guest musicians. Both of them have a two-fold function. For the first 3 practises including tonight's, they would help Mrs. Shio Kamiya-," But his following words were voluntarily cut off. Len noticed that he had saw something from between the crowd.

He followed the man's line of sight to find a darkened archway of an unlit corridor along one side of the entrance hall. At its entrance was the familiar stature of Tsuchiura, scratching the back of his head. He seemed to be conversing with someone he was blocking from view.

Kahoko looked as if she would shout out and raise her hand to call for him but had stopped mid-way of the act. Unlike Len, the others had not noticed her half-stopped act.

"Ah, there's the team's guest pianist, finally showing up," Ousaki remarked.

The rest of the group looked stunned while Len inwardly huffed. Kahoko actually gasped. Ousaki, noticing her surprise, inquired if Tsuchiura had not notified them of his entry into the official project team.

When Kaji, Shoko and even Kahoko only shook their heads, Ousaki gave an even more inquiring look to Len, as if he had expected Tsuchiura would have at least informed him. His earlier suspicions confirmed, Len wondered why Ouzaki was giving him such a look. After he muttered a soft vocal denial, Ousaki paused, and then blinked before shrugging his shoulders.

"That's... strange," said Ousaki, loking genuinely puzzled.

"Umm, maybe he wanted to surprise us?" piped Shoko, "There was never any mention of Tsuchiura being a member of the orchestra in the university website."

"That's because he is not a member of the _performing_ orchestra. Not yet anyway," said Ousaki. Seeing identical bewildered faces around him, he explained further, "For the first concerto, Tsuchiura would not be included in the recording studio when the time to record comes. He's more seen as part of the organizing team, not the players."

Ousaki gestured to Len, "Particularly, I had informed him to at least notify you, Tsukimori. Of his inclusion into the team,"

"Notifying Tsukimori?" asked Kaji before Len did. The former threw stares between both men, "Why him?"

"Because as Tsukimori being the soloist, whenever he needed to practise the composition during off-time, Tsuchiura is on duty if he also needed accompaniment for testing. Next to being part of the orchestra, studying all the compositions is one of the main roles of both guest musicians have to play," said Ousaki, "Even though he won't be in the recording, it's actually really harder to be this team's guest musician than the piano leader."

That statement made Len a bit puzzled, "There was never any mention of Seisou students auditioning to be guest musicians."

"Because it was an impromptu decision," said Ousaki, "With Alby involved in another project, we do need an extra pianist at hand. Particularly someone who would be more assessable amongst the students."

"I see. But if Tsuchiura's really good, wouldn't he had been the chosen pianist?" asked Shoko, apprehensively.

"Oh he was the best," said Ousaki, smiling, "But we didn't think that he was the right one to play for the concertos, that's all."

_The best one but not the right one?_ Len felt a sense of déjà vu. From the mystified blankness in the group, he was suddenly reassured that he was not just the only one who did not entirely understood what Ousaki meant. Indeed, for the few days he had been practising the Kamiya composition, Alby's statement seemed to imply that Len had been chosen as concertmaster on the absence of a favourite violinist.

That was the worse thought he could think of, the thought being selected not for his skills and diligence but because of more obscure factors such as his name, breeding and reputation. So like a surgeon, Len cut that thought away with an indifferent slice, lest it distracted him from playing well.

He had come down the road this far and he meant to go as long as it would take him.

Ousaki looked behind him again, "Speaking of which, there's Mrs. Shio Kamiya coming in to get him right now,"

Len once again turned to where Tsuchiura was. Only this time, while observing a shiny object in one hand, the man stood a little apart to reveal the person he had been talking to.

She was still in school uniform. Even from the distance, Len could see that rigid way she crossed her arms, as all crossed arms were often expressed, Kumiko was unpleased by something. He wondered if it had anything to do with the approaching young woman, the lady Len recognized as Mrs. Shio.

Beside him, Kahoko noticed her as well, "Oh, it's Kumiko," she sounded relieved and wondering.

Ousaki blinked and then paused, "Aah, I see. The dancing girl."

When Kaji inquired of Ousaki's instant recognition, he remarked that he had met Kumiko during Tsuchiura's post-audition a few days prior. Kumiko had been looking for Alby on matters of another project that was to be started tomorrow in the university.

They all watched as Kumiko stepped back while Tsuchiura greeted Mrs. Shio. The woman smiled to both of them and passed to Tsuchiura a name tag on a long string. Len saw that Kumiko had taken the shiny object from Tsuchiura and was examining it. He realized that it was a CD. Speculating a few details together, he turned a subtle slanting look to Kahoko. Her eyes were hiding inner questions.

Seeming to have noticed Kahoko's dim pensiveness as well, Ousaki remarked, "After Tsuchiura's post-audition, Ms. Yukigawa had asked for his help in playing a song for her to record. As far as I know, they both had been working on it recently but very diligently."

"It must be about her solo audition then," said Kahoko, shrugging. She expressed to Ousaki about Kumiko's prior request for a violin duet, "She must have changed her mind and had wanted a piano instead."

"Not the way I heard it," commented Ousaki, "I dropped into the office yesterday. Tsuchiura was at the instruments' room for over an hour. I could have sword by the music that he was playing a violin."

"What? You sure?"

Ousaki just gave her a half-amused frown. Being a master violinist himself, Len knew that his ears were perfect. Kahoko returned his expression with a sweated grin, "Ah, I mean, about Ryo working for over an hour," she said, "I was looking for him. About some course topics."

Her words came out in blurting. Len knew that it was not entirely true. So far, the only course topics she had inquired around recently were differential overtones assignments of the violin, something which she looked toward _him_ for advice. He had not thought of anything out of the ordinary about when he had grudgingly checked her notes... until now.

"Well, he's always been a good help. His ability to easily assimilate himself into a team was why I recommended him as a guest musician," said Ousaki, smiling. Taking advantage of the pause in the conversation, he continued, "Speaking of team, Len and I need to take our leaves now."

Len blinked. Ousaki nodded to the others before turning toward him, "You'll have to introduce yourself to everybody so all would know who they're playing for. It's part of the system, I hope you don't mind," he cheered.

"I know how the system works," said Len respectively. He had remembered before in attending one of his mother's practises about the procedures for a 'leader', as concertmasters were often called in the UK.

With barely a backward glance, he and Ousaki gestured goodbyes to Kaji, Shoko and Kahoko. But Len did notice after taking a few steps toward the main staircase, Kahoko's eyes drew again toward where Tsuchiura and Kumiko were. Turning towards the two as he followed behind Ousaki, Len peeked.

And saw both Tsuchiura and Kumiko watching him intently. Kumiko said something to Tsuchiura without looking at him. She then waved at him with the CD in hand. Tsuchiura returned Kumiko's nod and replied something that made her nod. She pointed to the dark corridor before immediately turning and disappeared into the darkness.

Tsuchiura threw a dumbfounded look at her back. When Mrs. Shio spoke and patted a hand on his back, he turned to her with a blank-surprised face and gestured a shaking palm, as if to deny what had been said. Mrs. Shio only shook her head and wagged a pointed finger to the main staircase.

The crowd, noticing the gathering of the officials to the foot of the stairs, began to hush and reduce their voices. Kamiya and Alby were walking down the stairs; the former looking like he was in a sate of half-pouting, the later in a state of half-satisfied. The cello master noticed their descent. He bowed to Yunoki and Shimizu, who he had been conversing with. As Len passed beside them, he overheard a partial conversation.

"...full orchestra practise won't be until after the first 3 instrumental practises." said Chan Lian.

"So only the first real practise would be in the week after next week?" asked Shimizu, sounding slightly disheartening.

"We'll be working with the mentors as well as the guest musicians until then," said Yunoki, "This sounds like as much as a learning experience for them as well as for us."

Patting the top of rolled scores on his shoulder, Chan Lian answered with a short laugh, "Yeah, to prepare harmony before matching the melody. Tonight is mostly finger drills, to test everyone as a team. Each instrument groups have some music scales prepared for tonight. _Crescendo_, then _arpeggio_. And if there's still time left in the two and a half hours, maybe we'll try _fugue_."

Inquiries complete, Yunoki and Shimizu departed from the man with thank-you glances. Chan Lian then turned to address Ousaki's hand. He noticed Len behind him and Ousaki introduced them as concertmaster and cello master.

"Pleasure to meet you, Tsukimori," said Chan Lian pleasantly, "Though to tell you the truth, I'm more of a trumpet master. At least for tonight. It'll just be Alby and Ousaki with the strings in the upstairs gallery then."

"Thank you. I take it that you'll be in the trumpet practise room then?" asked Ousaki.

Chan Lian gave a half-suspicious look at where Hihara and his crowd were gathered. Every now and then, a totally offbeat trumpet honked, "Yes. Maybe in the other end of the building I might suspect," said Chan Lian.

Ousaki laughed, which was also followed by a lighter giggle behind Len. The new voice, equally amused, was Mrs. Shio. Besides her towered Tsuchiura, adjusting the nametag strings around his neck with one hand. Upon sighting Len's eye, he smirk a wave and called out a single syllable, "Yo."

"Ah, Ryotaro Tsuchiura. Glad to see you again," said Ousaki, extending out a hand. Tsuchiura returned with a handshake and a slight bow, muttering likewise. His voice seem less energetic, almost tired. Less noticeable than the dark circles under his eyes, Len noticed by the stiffness of his jaw that Tsuchiura was fighting not to yawn.

"Is everybody here then?" asked Mrs. Shio. She was a small woman with short dark hair in a light-coloured, loose dress. Ousaki had confirmed earlier to the curious Kahoko and Shoko that Mrs. Shio was indeed 2 months pregnant with her first child. Her husband and the conductor stood not far, waiting for them.

"Better do it now, before this crowd gets even more restless," said Chan Lian, "Tsukimori, Tsuchiura. Could you please stand with the young lady over there? She's the guest harpist," He pointed to a very tall and slender girl with boyish-cut short white-blond curly top, standing alone at one corner of the bottom step of the staircase. She saw them watching her and she waved shyly. Mrs. Shio waved back.

After Tsuchiura muttered a yeah, Len followed behind him. As Alby addressed the crowd for attention, Len whispered concretely to Tsuchiura, "Where have you been?"

"Huh?" The man seemed to be in a partly-dazed state.

It was Len's turn to firm his jaw, "You've been disappearing into the practise rooms almost after every class. For unusually long hours,"

This time, Tsuchiura did not bother to hide his yawn, "Oh gee. Nice of you to be so concerned. I miss you too, you know,"

Passing aside the sarcastic remark, Len hissed, "Ousaki had informed me that it was your duty to make me aware of you being the guest pianist. I cannot tolerate working with a slacking attitude if you've made yourself this way,"

"My attitude is fine," growled Tsuchiura through clenched teeth, "I've only confirmed my new job last Wednesday. Since then, I've been working my butt off on 3 types of music pieces."

"Three pieces?" asked Len, blinking at the amount of work.

"Yep. Two of them are especially for you, if you want to know," grinned Tsuchiura, his white teeth were disgustingly showing.

Knowing that further talking would end in an entirely juvenile mannish banter, Len only huffed.

But still, he added a last word, more warning than plain statement, "I'm merely stating that it was inconsiderate to make Kahoko worry about you."

Though as watching Alby speaking to the crowd, Len could not see Tsuchiura's grimace. However, the suppressed growl that was cut off too quickly supplied his imagination. At the back of his mind though, he remembered that Ousaki mentioned about Tsuchiura being in the Kamiya project's quarters, practising with a violin.

Three pieces of music, Len calculated which they were. Or what they might be. So far, every time Len passed by the music rooms of which Tsuchiura was playing, the glass of the door showed that he was working industriously on the grand piano. There was no sign of any violin though.

One piece, he suspected, was for his mother's charity gala. He had heard the piece even through the soundproof door. Another was perhaps the piano accompaniment piece of the Kamiya concerto. Len knew that there were music practise rooms in the old music faculty building. As a guest pianist, Tsuchiura would have practised there, close to where the organizing team would be at hand.

Len was not surprised in the least; it would not have been the first time Tsuchiura played in hiding. But then… the third music piece was overheard by Ousaki to have been a violin. He did not ask Ousaki at the time on what kind of violin piece of Tsuchiura's skill level which the man had played. It was not his business after all and should not be concerned or distracted about.

Yet a little bit of it, the mystery of Tsuchiura's violin piece, most probably for that ballet girl's project, stayed like a tiny pinprick in his mind. What kind of violin music would have Tsuchiura had played that would discern Kumiko's level of preference, as she had previously wanted a particularly difficult music, a duet music no less, to dance to.

Seeing that it was useless to ponder on things outside his authority, Len pushed the thoughts away. Also in the few minutes of silence followed, he paid some attention to Alby, who was introducing the mentors of the organizing team.

Chan Lian who was both cello and trumpet master. A gray-haired, slightly plump woman, who looked to be the oldest member of the team, was Mrs. Mitsuki Kaito, the woodwind expert. Mrs. Shio and the guest musicians would aid the piano concertos while both Ousaki and Alby would coordinate for the most current one, the violin.

Alby then gave introduction to the man who needed no introduction, Kamiya himself. The man had studied for two years in Germany during his early teens for the violin major. He completed his higher education at one of Japan's most prestigious music school before embarking his debut into the international level with a Tchaikovsky concerto.

From Kamiya's bored looks, Len suspected the man was not too enamoured of listening to his own history. A common discretion he could share with. Besides him, Tsuchiura was continuously giving him some inclined eye signals at sideways in a way that was becoming more and more irksome.

Eventually, he spoke first just to get it over with, "What is it now?"

"Just checking if you're not too busy," said Tsuchiura in a whisper, "If it's okay with you, could you pass a message to Kahoko?"

He sounded so uncertain that Len actually turned to see what he was trying to imply. But Tsuchiura was staring ahead into the crowd. If he was watching out for Kahoko, Len could not tell truthfully but he was sure that the man was not gazing at the direction where Len had left the group. Underneath the sleepless lines of his eyes, Len noticed a slight blush.

He condensed his bite into a hissed sigh, "Do I look like a courtier errand boy? I'll tell you now that I'm not. You tell her yourself and don't bother me."

That came out harsher than Len had intended, but truthfully, he noticed that Alby was explaining the structure and uniformity of the current composition in the works. Memorizing an out-of-topic message between a guy and his _girlfriend_, any kind of message regardless, was the last thing he needed to put notice to.

Tsuchiura's grumble was almost inaudible. Almost, "Don't worry, it's just about music. I made violin composition,"

Now that definitely got Len's attention, "You made a violin composition?" he echoed.

"Thought you might be interested," sneered Tsuchiura.

"You assume too quickly. It might be a Kreisler knock-out for all I care."

"Gee, your lack of confidence that I can't make my own music really saddens me," Tsuchiura words dripped more sarcasm than a leaky faucet, "Ask Kahoko then. She knew about it for a while but I only recently managed to make it sound right."

Tsuchiura glanced at the corner of the entrance hall where one of the notice boards was hung. Where, unseen behind the swaying heads of the listening crowd, the others of their familiar company might still be standing in waiting. He continued, "You can come along after your practise too. It's at the music department practise room, if you still remembered the way to get there. I could get a man's opinion as well."

The pianist-who-made-a-violin-composition sounded so annoyingly self-assured with his beat-up tired eyes and uncombed green hair-, well, more uncombed than usual, anyway-, that Len decided to comply just to give him an oh-so-entirely-_unbiased_ opinion. A previous thought, buried under all the others he accumulated that week, cropped slowly up to his awareness.

But before he could pay attention to it, Tsuchiura jabbed a small finger to his arm, "Hey, get ready to look up, Tsukimori," he whispered heatedly.

Already in the present, Len shushed him by elbowing his hand away, "I'm not spaced out. I'm fully aware of my surroundings."

And in his surroundings, Alby had just addressed Len Tsukimori as the concertmaster for the concerto and wished them all good luck in the coming weeks. The crowd clapped and cheered while Len said a polite thank you and bowed respectably to his music seniors.

**End of Chapter 19**

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_Author's PS: For more information about the Fan-Epic (and that I NEED help on something), check out the FAQ in my personal profile._


	20. Chapter 20

_Yay! Chapter 20, 8 story alerts and 2321 views! Okay, it's still tiny compared to other genius fanfic-ers out there but this is my fanfic (hehehehe!). Time to answer reviews again._

_idzny: Sorry that you don't like Kumiko. I've worked really hard building her from the bottom up. To the truth, I'm a full-fledged Kahoko fan myself but I prefer she and her true love finally connect together and help the rest of the guys achieve the same. With other girls, that is (hehehehe!). If it's okay, I can give Kahoko more dialogue?_

_Jarield: I had intended it to be a novel (a helpful distraction from doing homework!). I'm not a music student (IT student. Warning! Female Geek!), so I had to do a lot of research using Google, Yahoo!, Wikipedia, the occasional random forum discussions and etc. Still, I'm a bit worried from real music students hurling offence at me for getting it all wrong._

_Oooooh, of course I loved Devil's Trill. Did you download the MP3 from the profile page? That music was supposed to be in the RyoxKaho fanfic. I originally wanted to make Tartini's Devil's Trill to be the antithesis of Schubert's Ave Maria. But then I found a better music piece (in piano, strings and music box version) and decided to use that one instead. So Devil's Trill only got a partial role in this fanfic._

_I'm glad you do like Kumiko the OC girl. Frankly, there is times which I don't understand why she's so contradictory despite her 'tragic secret'. My goal was to make someone who could shake Len Tsukimori up, to break him out of his one and only, long-suffering fear. I pictured the one who could do it is the OC girl similar to that of the Swan Queen's story (living in two worlds, half her soul is bounded by another's will)._

_Kahoko is definitely stronger and more mature. She's grown to develop a bond between all her guys almost as strongly as her bond with her violin. It's true that it was the final incidents of the third-year high school that got her started (don't ask me about Lili!) but I liked to think that having Ryo beside her just completes each other. I hope that's okay (please don't kill me, LenxKaho fan mob!!)._

_Still working on that non-existent spark. The problem is that I realized in building Kumiko's character, she fights cool personality guys with cool personality herself. If they keep throwing frostbites at each other, how the hell am I going to break the ice? Sheesh, I'll figure out a way somehow (hehehehe!)._

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**Il Suono D'Oro**

**Chapter20: **_**Ta Gueule**_** and Dance!**

"So you're cheating," said Tsuchiura.

Sighing, Kumiko took a swing from her bottle of lemon tea, "And you're not?" She gave the rows of piano keys under his hands a disgruntled look.

The man had the audacity to grin widely. Or maybe his character came from he was just as tired as she felt, "What I'm doing isn't cheating. It's called creative synthesizing."

"It's called pianist-using-technology-to-pretend-he-can-play-the-violin," said Kumiko mockingly. Her own fingers were busy; between the laptop and the pencil hovering over a sheet of music scores, one task for each hand. Occasionally, she took a swing from her bottle of lemon tea. She was not really thirsty but she needed something to keep her awake.

The man's cough almost sounded like an inelegant snort he tried to cover partially, "Heh. What I'm doing is significantly different from what you did," said Tsuchiura.

"Who cares? If Alby did not object, then there's no problem in me assigning the audition list for tomorrow, even though I'm a participant myself," said Kumiko, "Besides, it'll all be chaos again probably. Big egos tend to make these school meets nauseatingly frivolous, asking for 5 more minutes or so to get their busybodies into the _barre_."

She saved the newly arranged list and opened a different program. On the electric piano, Tsuchiura unplugged his oversized headphones and turned up the volume knob on the piano, "Okay. What do you think of this passage then?"

Music drifted into the air from the speakers as the pianist's hands flew across the keys. Kumiko paused in her work to listen carefully. Her mind centred on the place between energetic sections of the bars that connect smoothly to the slower, deeper resonance. The joining must be perfect; not so much as to surprise but not less in the proceeding outlook.

It was as late as night could ever get in the one of the practise-room-cum-classroom in the music department. Recently though, by the authority of the Seisou Academy, the room had been converted into partly a piano studio and partly a padlocked soundproof chamber. Granted, what gave it such a high-tech new security door was that it housed some of the most expensive new equipments ever to pass through the high-school gates.

The black grand piano was still the largest instrument in the space; she was currently working her laptop on it. But it was no longer the only piano; it also had two full sets of Korg Triton music station synthesizers. To the non-techno-gadgetry eye, it looked as if the class stage had been given an additional 4 electric keyboards on two metal stands. One set was fixed along the wall with the chalkboard while the other set was placed behind the seater of the grand piano.

It took Tsuchiura a few minutes to explain to Kumiko, between his excited breaths, what was the difference between a plain piano that ran on electricity, to a _music station synthesizer_-, "Can't we just call it a piano synthesizer?" she asked wearily-, so she could understand how much an advantage she could have if they stuck to a violin music piece instead of opting for the piano classic she had suggested.

"Did the Kamiya team allow you to use this tool for my project?" asked Kumiko suspiciously.

Tsuchiura shrugged, "They told me to get used to playing on this as soon as possible. Your project was a one kind of a challenge I'd like to venture first."

Kumiko privately figured that Tsuchiura just wanted a major reason to try out a really big brand new electronic toy. She supposed that she had to be a real pianist to understand this guy's enthusiasm. Besides, she could use some sapping off someone else's enthusiasm, being that she was having so little of her own recently. Sternly pulling herself together, she concentrated on the music scores Tsuchiura had written out for her.

For her dance to match the music.

Without knowing why she cared, but Tsukimori's statement that she should be working her ideal toward the music stuck into her. Her conclusion was that though the man was not a dancer, being a servant of music in his own league, he did posses the right idea. It was in his playing, she heard it. Beyond the skill, it was the cold, neutrality he imposed upon his violin that held a hidden... something she did not know what, but it was there.

Like the northern wind one cannot see but would always feel its winter chill coming.

In her experience, Kumiko had been meticulously music-oriented in her dancing. In each step of the rhythm, she either challenged the song or let the song challenge her. The more difficult the piece, the more she relished in making the higher jumps and faster spins. Everybody can get into the rhythm; not anybody could dance the rhythm like they owned it.

On the more daring endeavour, she often performed in contrasting moves. A sleight of hand and arm in an _andante_ or imposing slow motion while the bass notes were racing to pull her out of her form. Miss Miya her friend and instructor often described her as taking her body as the instrument that produced the song.

One had to immerse into the music, to be captured and be propelled inside the vortex of sounds. To be consumed and to be reborn within the waves of the steps into a living creation of movement, motion in harmony with the music which she had explained many time to Kumiko as 'fuel for the soul'.

Miss Miya had always been a romantic.

Inwardly keeping a cynical smirk, Kumiko gave attention to the composition. When she encountered the piano guy unexpectedly, he told her that he was present for a post audition to become guest pianist. Eye for an eye, comment for a comment, she in turn said that she was looking for Alby. Okay, more specifically, his laptop and his internet account within the Association.

Keeping her gaze to the paper scores, she compared the sharp string of high notes to the zigzagging lines, loops and dotted circles she made in the empty spaces in between. During that passage, her stated motions would be after the classical freestyle waltz she would do a speedy _chaines_, then a combination of _grand jete en avant_ with _jete entrelace_, then a very soft _penchee_ almost to the floor before rising back up with fast-paced modern-infused freestyle that ended on an achingly controlled _fondu_.

But based on the music, the current result made her frown.

"What's wrong? Too slow?" asked Tsuchiura, looking directly at her.

Kumiko noted his glance, "No, it's perfect," and hid her apprehension under a soft beaming face, "Let's keep this overall an allegro moderato, shall we?"

Tsuchiura blinked, "Sure. Hey, why not we just try-,"

In the last few days working with Tsuchiura made her take warning on a few things about this guy. Like when to stop him before he suggested yet another method they could experiment. Knowing that it could drag on for hours, Kumiko felt her teeth clench. She patted his shoulder lightly before gripping it hard just in case the soft touch did not grab his immediate notice.

"I said it's fine. Perfect, all perfect," she put as much heavy deliberation as she could muster, "In fact, why don't we call this one a wrap?"

"We're done?" asked Tsuchiura. Kumiko was halfway to lightly nod when he continued, "I'm not holding you up for something am I? It is the night before your audition after all."

She sighed but with feeling more for him than for herself, "Naah, I just want to get home for a full night's sleep," said Kumiko. That was true enough. But the bigger reason was that, being Friday night, her Big Brother might show up at anytime to pick her up. _Wild dogs get more rabid on weekend nights_.

Kumiko started to twist open her bottle of lemon tea to sip the sweet elixir again but unexpectedly, Tsuchiura took it away from her hand in a quick swipe.

"Hey!" she cried, frowning.

Tsuchiura humped, "You shouldn't take sugary stuff just before a major exercise. It'll affect your metabolism tomorrow,"

"I just need a little extra sip," whined Kumiko, reaching out to grab the bottle back, "I like having a sugar rush the second I wake up in the morning. Energizes me pretty well so far."

Tsuchiura rose the capped bottle out of her reach, "Or you could get sick smack in the middle of that jumpy thing you do so well. Let's not take risks tonight of all nights, whaddya say?"

"I'd say you sound as bad as my instructor," But Kumiko smiled as she said it, so no sting was passed. Tsuchiura returned the bottle to her and she grudgingly stuffed it into her bag.

Personally, cutting to the chase, she would rather that they just take the third and final recording and have it all done with. So in planning the next 48 hours, she could loose all this nervous energy, get her body in motion before the panel of judges, learn the results and then finally decide for whatever things she had ignored or left off. Kumiko had been walking on a tight string for days.

Expectedly, she had not performed a long time. That was made her more anxious than ever. Had the styles and the public preferences changed while she had been away? What if the musical strategy she had always imposed upon her choreography did not work this time?

She was older now. The previous days were behind her, back when she made a sensation for being the youngest dancer ever to recreate Isadora Duncan's interpretation of Beethoven's _Seventh Symphony_. Her familiar critics would expect that she should be showing something new and original for tomorrow's presentation, to show that she was more than 'still got it'. She had to make everyone remember how much they missed her

Tsukimori had armed her with a novel idea. It would be the start of something new, a bit of some risky something-news she needed to add and discard into the style. But no matter how she was going to do it, it would all come back to the reason why she started to dance. Why she was still dancing to this day.

_Working the ideal into the music_. She had always believed that matters most was about the passion within.

If she could work her passion into that music, instead of making the music her first inspiration, Kumiko knew that she had a winning system. Even though the risks were that she would have to compress on much of the details and forgo certain favourable technical rules of ballet with the more open freestyle.

Her showcase of aesthetics might also be affected as well. A more subtle approach was needed, which in turn was also more difficult to properly play out. Her work was certainly cut out for her. But the idea, not just the sound of the idea, truly excited her to give it a try.

It would be the overall performance, how everything flowed from step one, that bigger picture, she noted for the greater good. A confidence that she could-, really _would_-, win the position in the ballet she hungered for.

But tonight... music. Annoyed that this tall guy-, biased that she was about all tall guys with the capability to overrule her-, took away her lemon tea too easily with reasonable facts, she poked the side of his temple with the tip of her little finger. Tsuchiura winced and threw her a what-was-that-for look.

"C'mon, we're wasting time," said Kumiko tartly. She tapped the small touch screen embedded on the top part of the keyboard, "Let's listen to the recorded sections. Then you can complete the final composition for my CD."

Tsuchiura nodded and obliged. He twiddled with the touch screen, selecting from the menu system for the rerun of previously played songs. The LCD display revealed a score not unlike on the sheets of paper Kumiko had with her. Starting the beginning sequence, Tsuchiura crossed his arms and stared opaquely at the row of white and black keys as they started to move by themselves.

Instead of the sounds of a piano, the synthesizer played the strings instrument version. Switching her laptop to screensaver mode, Kumiko dropped her attention to work and instead focused on the roaming music. The silent composer standing before the synthesizer had his merit, more than just skilful.

She had expected no less when she realized that Tsuchiura was chosen to work alongside a great Japanese musician; just as she had expected the kind of quality that Tsukimori would have given her, after she had heard his post-audition. Kumiko had noticed something during Tsuchiura's post audition-, indeed, the pianist practising indoors was why Alby let her stay and listen instead of booting her out in his _you-again?_ irritation.

Both Tsukimori and Tsuchiura had a strong, bold style that burned the melody into an encircling stance that captured attention to the ears like bees to honey. At first, she wondered if they both had the same music teacher during their impressionable days and if that teacher had been possessed by some god of competitive philosophy. If there ever was such a god, Tsukimori and Tsuchiura would have been disciples.

But their differences showed as well, the character of each was evident in the sensitivity of the emotional listener she had trained herself to be.

It was something in Tsuchiura's character, his current style that had appealed to Kumiko on the general scheme she had envisioned. Like that violinist, this pianist was trapped in something thick and impenetrable. But in the way his face looked as he played, how the notes were played by him, it felt as if there was a promise to be fulfilled. A sense of hope? The anticipated finale?

Or perhaps, noting that the composition was an original created by Tsuchiura himself, maybe she interpreted too much? Granted, with only one player expressing the song, the duality contrasting effect Kumiko had hoped for was not as strong as a Tsukimori and Kahoko duet that she believed could have given her.

After the music ended, Tsuchiura asked her for her opinion, "Just lay it out on me," he said, cheerily. Her mouth was about to mutter a yeah-fine-let's-do-this but her mind was intruded with something that her inner conscience had calculated. At first, she thought that Tsuchiura's earnest requests on structure and dynamics, asking for a lot of views on her part, was merely to engage her into explaining a more definite outlook.

He said that it was a song for her. She had to respect him by showing the kind of attention on how important it was to her.

Despite her unspoken wish to take more focus on her skills than of his, Kumiko let him regale her into asking questions again and again. But every time she listened to him playing, he did not sound like a person who took opinions too seriously. The man played from his heart in such a way that more of his own glow shone brightly each time he touched his keys.

She was familiar on how Alby played the piano. She had been used to how Miss Miya and Mrs. Kago the school's pianist played too. They played for the dance in mind. Tsuchiura played for something even more private. That was why she had sought him out; his immersion into his own creation.

Her plan was to take to meaning of his song. But his actions off-music stated that he thought that he was designing her dance. If the guy had meant to flatter her, the real effect had been the complete opposite. That had not been part of her new idea.

Trying hard not to frown-, she inwardly swore that she had grown enough wrinkles already-, Kumiko slumped her shoulders and shoved all her papers into her bag pack, scores and illustrations in all, in a deliberately crestfallen pose. Tsuchiura's reaction was to turn blank and stare. Stopping him before he said anything-, in case he thought she was just being uptight-, Kumiko raised a hand and gripped his shoulders irritably with her nails.

"Look, Tsuchiura. This is your song. And it'll still be yours after tomorrow," she said bluntly. Time for colourful words ran out in her, "Just play it as yourself," Not that Kumiko thought he played any differently but some things were needed to be clarified verbally.

One arm leaning against the top space of the highest mounted keyboard, Tsuchiura looked puzzled. His hand rose to gesture something but seeing from his face that he halfway changed his mind, it dropped and he appeared to be even more confused. And uncomfortable.

Kumiko took pity on him, "It's fine. I told you that you've made it perfectly and I mean it," she smirked, "I'm asking for your help. Voluntarily. If you keep wondering what I think of your work, I'll think way too much for the small amount of time I got left."

Waving a hand at her pen drive still stuck in her laptop, she then turn to point a finger to the USB slot on the piano synthesizer, "Can I please download your song now?"

Tsuchiura blinked, looking dumbfounded, "Okay, just one more full recording," he said, "I was wondering if you can match the tempo."

The man had admitted that, as a non-ballet enthusiast, he had never seen Kumiko dance. Forgiveness she automatically granted for those who had never been able to evaluate her in action, "I never have a problem with tempos," said Kumiko, huffily. Uncrossing her arms, she placed her hands on the small of her back as she leaned against the side of the grand piano before giving him a neutral gaze, "I'm just wondering..."

She intentionally paused in mid-sentence. It was not long before Tsuchiura looked behind him to catch her saying the rest of her mind, "I'm just wondering if I'm the one who should be more worried with this song than you," she clarified.

The way Tsuchiura played with solemnity and yet his behaviour about how he kept referring to her, on her weight on the scales, was contradictory. Even more telling, his inquiries seemed genuine. So far, she kept her answers most at the minimum and in abstract. She did not want her influence to distract him. That was also the same reason why she did not say outright to just shut up and play. Next to that the latter sounded plain rude.

Kumiko planned to impose her ideal on the music through the dance, not imposing upon the music itself. The music should be pure on its own form. Just as the composer had envisioned it. So what exactly was Tsuchiura really envisioning, she wondered. If he was confused, how the hell was she going to interpret it well enough to win her wished role?

"What do you mean?" asked Tsuchiura, "Losing confidence or something here?"

She did not bother to suppress her snort, "If I give myself anymore confidence, I might as well fall flat on my face in the middle of the routine and then do it again for a second demonstration," she paused just long enough to allow him to finish his sudden bark of laughter. Then she continued, "What I'm trying to ask is what's bothering _you_?"

Tsuchiura reacted by mouthing an inaudible _Me?_ and then threw her a frown.

"No don't speak," Kumiko raised a hand in halting, "Kahoko once told me that you're brought up being involved in a lot of physical activities. Your body language is pretty expressive and I can read you like an illustrated book," Her Big Brother used to be a martial artist. In between her childhood escapades, she made herself pretty fluent in reading how guys moved. Like when she was in trouble. Or when they look like they were thinking too deep.

"And before you speculate that I might be thinking too deep," said Kumiko, when Tsuchiura raised one eyebrow in consideration, "You might as well state your problem so I can stop being so distracted and possibly ruin your music tomorrow by falling flat on my face."

He gave her a half-grimace before he shook his head, sighing, "You're good,"

_I inherited it from my Big Brother_. "I practised it on everybody I meet everyday," said Kumiko simply.

"Mind reading?"

"Mime-reading actually. I'm just better with musicians," smiled Kumiko, "Now fess up. Is it me? Do you really want to let me use your music or not?"

Kumiko watched as Tsuchiura turned away. One finger made a light touch on a white key. It sounded like an 'A' note, "I usually don't care what others say about how I play," he spoke softly, "When I'm on the piano, I hear only the music outside and inside of me. But this composition is something I've created. I had it within me for sometime..."

He lightly followed it with the rest of the music with his right hand. A white plastic bangle that he wore hung loosely on his wrist. For some reason, Kumiko's eye seemed drawn to it as he played, "This had always meant to be a violin piece. Always. But my skills on the violin weren't good enough yet. I never got it to sound... the way I needed it to sound. Even with this synthesizer, it's as perfect as I wanted it to be."

A music unborn yet, unheard of yet. Stuck in one's heart, it had never been brought outside the composer's mental boundaries. How would such a new-born be received from the outside? An ache grew inside Kumiko, of something she had thought she forgotten. Its re-emergence made her thoughtful of Tsuchiura's state.

The pianist had a lot of pride and a lot of heart. He sounded a bit awkward in saying that to her. She knew that she should feel sorry for making him do something that he had been hiding inside. If she were a softer hearted girl, maybe she ought to reply something like an apology or a thank you for his help. Not that she was not affected by his effort anyway.

_Kahoko's such a lucky girl_, Kumiko inwardly smiled.

But for her part, Kumiko wanted a task. She had asked him for help. He said that he was willing. Granted, there was always the difference between saying that one would do the favour and actually doing the favour. She had already outlined her expectations. He had already outlined his preference. Now suddenly he was uncertain of something he had already promised to entrust her with.

That sucks. It was too late to change her choreography, tonight of all nights. She needed Tsuchiura's music. But most of all, she needed to emphasize on Tsuchiura that it was from the start, his own created music. It might make a debut on an event where music played only a secondary role. But ballet had never made music look bad.

An idea popped into her head on how she was going to show that to her music-maker.

"Are you worried about the reception tomorrow?" asked Kumiko. She returned to her laptop and its screensaver of an animated spinning ice-skater. "Don't worry. I'll promise I won't deviate from your vision,"

From the corner of her eye, she watched as Tsuchiura turned to give her a look that was neither emotionless nor neutral. Just as his hands glided upon the piano, Kumiko made her fingers busy with intention on the laptop and touchpad, opening up a web browser window.

"You play great. And with a composition that you created," Kumiko opened a well-known encyclopaedic site, "Shouldn't you care even less what others would say about it?"

She turned to find Tsuchiura's smile was strangely endearing. A funny feeling she seldom had bubbled in her stomach. Kumiko bit her bottom lip, hard, but managed to remain looking haughty.

"I used to think that way," said Tsuchiura. He crossed his arms and leaned his back against the side of the keyboard's metal stand. "But I don't want to sound conceited. Or ignorant of my weakness. If a thousand listeners said that this composition was sub-standard, then I shouldn't disregard it, right?"

Inside, Kumiko privately added no opinion to that. "So you got a style of your own," she added serenely, "And it showed even more clearly in something that you create instead of what you've previously only replicate. I kind of get the feeling every time I have to start on a new choreography on a music I've never heard before."

Continuing to search through the website for her inquest, she made a mental side note to fix-up her connection speed, "Even though you shouldn't disregard what others might say," she began, "But when it comes down to your very first composition, who else does the new-born music have but you?"

She did not look behind her to see what expression did Tsuchiura had upon hearing her, words but the fuzzy reflection of him on her laptop output screen made her note that he had suddenly stood upright. Just in time. The page she had wanted had finished loading. In the top part of the site was captioned in bold letters, _The Rite of Spring_.

"Here, I want to show you something, Tsuchiura," Kumiko held out a hand and gestured the laptop screen to him. Blankly, Tsuchiura walked closer to her and stared at the page. She pointed to the passages of information where she wanted him to read, watching him face grew from inquiring to bafflement. He blinked twice before she noted how his eyes moved to re-read.

_The Rite of Spring_ was a famous ballet that did not had a pretty good start in 1913. The complex music, the discord of rhythm behind the bassoon solo, the utter dissonance for the purposes of colour and musical energy was so very different from the usual Romantic themed classical that during the premiere itself, the audience booed and whistled and jeered, _ta gueule, ta gueule!_

_Ta gueule_ was Russion for 'shut up'. The ballet never completed its first show. Everything broke into a riot of which the composer himself had to flee the theatre for safety.

"Yet not even a year later, it was proudly hailed in London as one of the greatest ballet works of all time," said Kumiko, "Not bad, eh? For Igor Stravinsky, what had been important was that he kept the music running," She paused to think for a moment, "And music from that ballet continued to play to this day. One of the world's most favourite interpretations was revealed in that Disney movie _Fantasia 2000_."

Turning away from him and his object of interest to spare him from her reading his thoughts, Kumiko spoke softly, "So you see, whenever you create something new, you should never disregard your work," she shrugged as she sighed, "Because other than the one thousand people who might not like what you've made, there are still 5,999,999,000 left on Earth who had not heard it before. And new people are born everyday,"

Tsuchiura straightened up from where he bent over the screen, "I was referring to the 1000 experts. Nobody can be a violin virtuoso in a day."

"Heh. Experts are jaded," Kumiko grinned, "Try playing for the amateurs. Especially the kids. Have you tried playing for kids?"

"I'd be lying if I'd said no," he grinned back.

"Well I used to be a kid once. How did you think I got started dancing?"

"Didn't Alby mutter that when you were eight, you once tried to kick all the keys off his old piano with your feet?"

"That man was joking. I kicked off only _one_ key and I just never liked the 'G' key anyway," her hiss had no bite.

"Don't say that. How come?"

"Duh. It's in the way of my foot."

Apparently the last outrageous remark-, completely non-fiction-, had been too much for Tsuchiura. The crooked lips suddenly became mobile and he turned away to cover his coughing mouth with the front of his shirt, his shoulder shaking. Relieved that she managed to knock the moody pianist out of his previous grave state-, she had enough of grave solemn men between her Big Brother and that Tsukimori guy-, she snapped her fingers in a self-aggrandizing way for his attention and stated that they better get back to recording the final piece.

Tomorrow she would need to contact her team and her instructor. She quickly felt slightly dissipated at the thought of all the work coming forward. But... the role of Odette would line at the bottom of the rainbow that followed the storms. Absently, she passed her pen drive to Tsuchiura and he stuck it into the synthesizer's USB slot.

He played the music score in full. _His_ music score. The melody rightfully belonged to him and Kumiko would dance in it her design. As it flowed, she noticed a new difference between his earlier recordings. This time, Tsuchiura played the strings instruments version more confidently.

True, there was still some sense of trap-like feeling; something else was within him Kumiko had not discern. Whatever it was, she allowed him that business as his own.

Her elbows were braced on the grand piano, her forehead leaned over to rest on the steeple of her hands. Her laptop had gone into screensaver mode again. In the dark background of the spinning figure of the ice-skater, Kumiko caught her own reflection and the dark outline at the back of Tsuchiura's head.

"It's still not perfect, isn't it?" she spoke softly.

"No, it isn't," his tone was almost inaudible under the music, "But I can say it's complete,"

An imperfect completion.

The Swan Queen herself, in her curse of a half-state, was a woman imperfect. But her story showed her as a woman complete.

_Perhaps someday, I could be a woman complete as well_.

And that was her ideal design.

The music filled her as a cup was filled with water; clear, soft and natural. When Tsuchiura finally completed the piece, her mind, for once, was empty of music. Not even its echoes she could allow herself to hum. So deep was she still in the concentrated state that it took a few shakes of Tsuchiura's hand to finally bring her to consciousness.

Oh no, had she fallen asleep? Embarrassed that the pianist had caught her sleeping on his music, she rubbed her eyes and greeted... and blinked in surprise.

Kahoko and Tsukimori.

**End of Chapter 20**

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